Hope Dies Last
by icyglass431
Summary: A new Gestapo major arrives in Hammelburg and he determinded to catch Papa Bear more than ever. What happens if he arrests one of the heroes? Will the others be able to free him, or must one of them pay the ultimate price? - Jout universe *Awarded Gold in the 2019 Papa Bear Awards for Best Slash Story*
1. Chapter 1

_October 1944_

Jout was crouching behind bushes on a small hill with a gun in his hand, ready to shoot. From his position, he had the perfect view on the barn that was the rendezvous point for a meeting with an unfamiliar underground agent, code name Snow Fox. This morning, a message had reached them from an underground unit they work really close with, and they had informed them that Snow Fox had information about two recent failed missions. Both had been traps by the Gestapo, but luckily, Hogan respectively Newkirk had managed to get away without a scratch. And now Jout was watching the barn and tried to figure out the best way to approach it without giving himself up. The front of the barn was completely open to see for anyone, something Jout did not like at all. At least there were trees right behind the barn, the perfect route if he had to escape from Gestapo goons.

Jout looked around again, but still did not see anything unusual. Everything was quiet, and so he slowly made his way down the hill and to the barn. As he reached the door, he looked around one more time before he quietly entered the barn. It was completely dark except for two gas lamps, and he was all alone. Jout immediately drew his gun closer, fearing another trap. But then he figured that if Snow Fox really had information about the Gestapo infiltrating the underground, he would not stand in clear line of fire while he waited for him to arrive. At least he hoped so.

With his gun still close to his body, Jout said the code given by the underground. "The North Star is shining brightly tonight."

"I wish we could see the Northern Lights instead," came a voice from his right.

Jout turned his head and saw a small figure emerging from the shadows who was lowering its gun. "You are Snow Fox?" asked Jout doubtfully. Before him stood a teenage boy, who only reached to Jout's chest. He had dark blond hair and the jacket he wore was too big for him.

" _Ja_. Is something wrong?" asked the boy with a thick German accent.

"But you're a kid!" Jout shook his head, disapproving. "This war is no place for a kid."

"Hey! Who do you call a _Kind_? I'm fifteen years old," said Snow Fox. "And perhaps you have not noticed, but the war is right on my doorstep. It started when I was ten."

"But you do realize that you're part of the underground now, do you? You could be shot as a traitor if the Gestapo catches you, or worse."

"I know that! But I want to do something good; something to be proud of," said Snow Fox.

Jout pinched the back of his nose, still not pleased by the idea of a child in such a danger. But they needed to know what the Gestapo was up to. "All right," he sighed. "Since you're already here, what do you know about the recent traps?"

"The underground is not their primary target," declared the young boy. "Your unit is his target. He wants Papa Bear."

"Who is 'he'? And how do you know that?" asked Jout, alarmed by what the boy said.

"He is new at Gestapo Headquarters; his name is Major Fuhrmann. When I was at the _Hofbräu_ , I heard two Gestapo soldiers talking about the latest trap. One said that the new Gestapo major was even more determined in catching Papa Bear than Major Hochstetter. And the other said that the Gestapo officials would surely get rid of this major soon since the two traps had not worked."

Before Jout could ask Snow Fox something else, they heard a machine gun fire. There were bullets flying through the barn, and Jout threw himself on Snow Fox instinctively. While bullets flew over his head, Jout looked down to see the young boy lying motionless underneath him, his eyes closed. "Snow Fox?" he asked, his voice full of panic. He tapped his cheek, but Snow Fox did not react. Suddenly, Jout felt something wet at his shirt. He looked down and was greeted with the sight of Snow Fox's entire shirt being soaked in blood, with a hole right in the middle of his chest and another in his stomach area. "Please, God, no!" Jout prayed as he checked for a pulse. When he found none, Jout bashed the ground next to Snow Fox's dead body, feeling the anger rising in him over another unnecessary death in this senseless war.

The bullets were still flying through the barn; the Gestapo probably wanted to make sure that no one in the barn survived their trap. Jout grabbed his hat that flew from his head when he had ducked and crawled to the backdoor of the barn, making sure to keep his head as low as possible but also being quick at it. He scrambled to his feet as soon as he exited the barn and ran straight into the forest, hoping that no Gestapo goon was following him. For the next five minutes, the only thing Jout did was running straight ahead without turning around. He tripped a few times and probably sprained his ankle at one time, judging from the sudden pain emerging from his right foot, but he kept on running until he had to stop to catch his breath. Jout turned around and despite seeing no sign that anyone was following him, he decided to make a detour back to camp; just to be on the safe side.

* * *

" 'e should 'ave been back two 'ours ago!" exclaimed Newkirk as he looked down on his watch. He was sitting at the common table with the rest of the team, a cup of tea in his hand, waiting for Jout's return. The absence of his boyfriend had him extremely worried, and even the tea and cigarette were not able to calm him down.

"Don't worry, Newkirk. He'll make it," Hogan said in a calm voice. Though he himself was anxious too, he knew he needed to keep a cool head for the sake of his team.

Newkirk stood up from the table and began to pace through the room, all eyes watching him. "Sure, 'e'll make it. It's just 'at the last two times we met with an unfamiliar agent were traps, and now Josh's late from 'is meetin' with yet another unfamiliar agent."

There was a dull bang coming from underneath the hidden tunnel entrance, indicating that someone wanted to come up. Baker jumped from his seat and pushed the hidden switch while the rest of the team gathered around the bunk bed. They watched how Jout climbed up the ladder and stepped over the rail, relieved that he was finally back. But the feeling of relief quickly changed to anxiety when they caught sight of the American's appearance.

"Josh, what happened?" asked Hogan concerned. "And what's with all the blood? Are you hurt?"

Jout looked down and saw that his white shirt was completely red, as well as the upper part of his trousers. Jout said nothing and only raised his glance, a blank expression covering his face. He felt how hands grabbed him and lead him over to the table where he was pushed down onto a stool. He heard voices talking to him, but he could not make out what those voices said to him; he was too shocked from what happened earlier.

When his vicinity became a bit clearer to him, he was able to make out his brother's voice, ordering someone to get Wilson. Then he felt a hand on his knee. "Josh, please tell me, what happened? Why are you covered in blood?" Hogan asked in a soothing voice, trying to get through to his younger brother.

"It's not mine," Jout mumbled, gazing at his hands that were covered in blood too. "It belongs to Snow Fox."

Hogan, who knelt in front of his brother, looked around, a worried expression on his face. He was greeted by his men looking equally fearful. "All right, Josh. You need to tell me what happened."

With his eyes still staring at his red hands, Jout began to explain. "Everything was completely normal at first. I met Snow Fox in the barn, and he told me that those two traps were designed to catch Papa Bear. Snow Fox said he heard two Gestapo soldiers talking about a new Gestapo major, Major Fuhrmann, saying that he was more determined in catching Papa Bear than Hochstetter." Jout had to stop as images of Snow Fox lying dead on the ground flooded his mind. He began to tremble, and then he felt an arm sliding around his shoulders, giving him a gentle squeeze. It was Newkirk, who tried to comfort his boyfriend. "Suddenly, bullets were flying through the barn, and I threw myself on Snow Fox. I looked down and saw him lying motionless on the ground. He had no pulse and…and his shirt was soaked in blood. I ran out of the barn and straight into the forest until I was out of breath. Then I took a detour to make sure no one was following me." Jout averted his gaze from his hands and looked his brother deep in the eyes. "Rob…Snow Fox…he was…he was only fifteen years old. The Gestapo killed a child!" He lowered his glance again and quietly said, "I have a child's blood on my hands."

Hogan stretched his hand out and lifted Jout's head with his finger. "Don't think like that, Josh. It's not your fault that Snow Fox got killed. He was the one who asked for the meeting." He turned his head and ordered, "Baker, tell Albert what happened. Inform him that Snow Fox completed his mission and ask him to find out more about this Major Fuhrmann. Same goes for London."

Baker nodded and climbed down the ladder into the tunnel. Seconds later, Medic Joe Wilson climbed up the ladder and stepped into the barracks, followed by LeBeau. When he spotted Jout sitting by the table, he rushed over to him and checked his pulse, fearing that the blood was at least partly from him. Jout pushed his hand away and angrily said, "I'm fine. I don't need a medic." He rose from his seat, but immediately cried out in pain and almost fell over when he put weight on his right foot.

Newkirk and Wilson caught Jout before he landed on the floor and pushed him back onto the stool. "You're fine, eh?" Wilson looked at Newkirk and said, "Get a pyjama of his. We need to get him out of those blood-stained clothes."

Together they stripped Jout down to his shorts and dressed him into his blue pyjama. Wilson then examined his right ankle while Newkirk got a bowl of lukewarm water and cleaned Jout's bloody hands. Jout did not react to any of that, only stared straight ahead with a faraway look in his eyes. When Wilson had put a bandage around his ankle, Newkirk helped Jout to lie down in Carter's bunk.

Wilson went over to his medical bag and said to Hogan, "I think it's best if I give him a sedative shot to sleep through the night. Luckily, London sent some in their last supply drop." He went over to Jout and sat down on the edge of the bunk, then he grabbed Jout's arm and rolled up his sleeve while saying, "This will help you sleep better, Lieutenant."

"I don't need medication," answered Jout sternly, his gaze directed at the bunk over him.

"Oh yes, you do," answered Wilson, his voice showing that he would not accept any objections. "You have a shock, Lieutenant; just look at how much you are shaking. Your body needs to rest."

Wilson gave him the shot and within a minute, he was not able to keep his eyes open any longer and the world around him faded into complete darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

The first thing Jout realized when he woke up was that he saw the bottom of another bunk and not the ceiling of the barracks. He blinked a few times and rubbed his eye before he propped himself up on his elbows, looking around the barracks to see that he was alone. That was the second thing that surprised him. Waking up without Schultz barging in plus an empty barracks meant that he had slept through roll call; without any trouble from Klink. As he pushed the blanket back and sat up, Jout tried to remember what happened last night. When he spotted the bandage around his ankle, the painful memories of the events in the barn flooded his mind, with Snow Fox being shot and lying dead underneath him. Jout shook his head as he tried to forget those images and he glanced down at his watch that was still at his wrist; it was 9 o'clock in the morning, three hours after roll call. Jout stood up and carefully tried to put weight on his right ankle. It still hurt, but limping was possible without too much pain. He hobbled to his footlocker and retrieved a clean uniform, then he got dressed and put on his garrison cap while he limped to the door. Since no one was in the barracks, he figured the others were outside, enjoying the last warm days of the year.

Jout opened the door and stepped outside, seeing his brother leaning against the wall next to the door. "Morning," he said while he limped to the bench and sat down next to LeBeau and Carter, the latter one was sunbathing with two plates in his hands, reflecting the light.

"Good morning," greeted Hogan back. "How are you feeling?"

"Better than yesterday," answered Jout as he watched Newkirk and the other occupants of barracks 2 playing soccer. "How come I was able to sleep in?"

"When we checked on you a few minutes before roll call, you were still sedated and there was no way of waking you up in time. So we told Schultz you were not feeling well and that you only fell asleep two hours ago, and we asked him not to disturb you. At first he was a bit reluctant, but when he saw you lying in Carter's bunk, he happily agreed to excuse you from roll call," Hogan explained.

LeBeau placed a hand on Jout's shoulder. " _Mon ami_ , I kept some breakfast for you. I'm sure you must be hungry."

"Thanks, LeBeau," said Jout. He looked back at his brother and asked, "Is there word from London or Albert yet on this Major Fuhrmann?"

Hogan shook his head. "Baker is in the radio room and waits for incoming messages."

Jout averted his gaze from Hogan just in time to see Newkirk jogging towards the barracks. "Mornin', Josh. 'ow are ya feelin'?" he asked as he leant against the barracks' wall right next to Jout.

"I'm fine; no need to worry. I was just a bit shocked after seeing Snow Fox being mowed down."

Everyone turned his head when they heard the door to the barracks open. Baker stepped out and said in a low voice, "London has no information about this Major Fuhrmann. But Albert met with contacts during the night who are familiar with Fuhrmann."

Baker stopped speaking as suddenly the main gate opened and a black staff car drove up to the _Kommandantur_. Out stepped an unknown Gestapo officer with a grim expression on his face who rushed up the stairs to Klink's office.

"Seems like ol' Klink is in trouble," stated Newkirk with a cigarette between his lips.

"Let's go inside and listen in, fellas," announced Hogan. He turned to Baker and said, "You can tell us about Albert's information later."

They scrambled into Hogan's office and Baker prepared the coffee pot to be able to hear who this new Gestapo officer was and what he wanted. But before Baker could plug in the pot, they heard Schultz calling for Colonel Hogan from the main room.

"You'll listen in while I see what Schultz wants," ordered Hogan. He left his office and closed the door behind him. "What is it, Schultz?"

"Colonel Hogan, Kommandant Klink wants to see you in his office. Immediately!"

"Can't handle the Gestapo on his own?" joked Hogan.

"Please, Colonel Hogan. I know nothing, _noth-ing_!"

* * *

As Hogan entered Klink's office, he saw the unfamiliar Gestapo major sitting in Klink's chair and sipping a glass of schnapps with Klink standing behind the major.

Hogan went over to the desk and saluted. "Colonel Robert Hogan, Senior POW. You wanted to see me, Colonel?"

"Ah, Colonel Hogan. This is Major Fuhrmann of the Gestapo," said Klink, playing nervously with his hands.

"Colonel Hogan, please sit down." Fuhrmann pointed to the chair across from him. Hogan obeyed and Fuhrmann said, "You know, Colonel, you are being held captive in a very interesting Stalag."

Hogan watched Fuhrmann closely. "Is that so, Major?"

"Oh, yes, very interesting. There were more acts of sabotage committed around this camp than in the whole Third Reich together." He sat his glass down and leant forward. "You don't happen to know the saboteurs?"

"You sound like Major Hochstetter," laughed Hogan. "May I remind you, Major, that I'm a prisoner of war? How should I know any saboteurs?"

"Major Fuhrmann, there was never a successful escape in Stalag 13," Klink interrupted. "I don't know why there were so many acts of sabotage in this area, but I can assure you that it has nothing to do with this Stalag."

Fuhrmann rose from his seat. "Stop this babbling, Klink. I'm not here to discuss those disgraceful incidents. Not now." He turned to Klink. "Gruppenführer Fegelein [1] ordered me to hold a fundraising for the winter relief, and I want to hold it here. It is tomorrow, and all the high SS generals and their wives will be attending it, and you will be responsible for the food and catering, Klink."

"But…but Major Fuhrmann, I don't have enough men to assign as waiters –"

"Klink! I don't see the problem. You have a whole camp full of prisoners capable of work." Fuhrmann turned his attention back to Hogan. "And I want you to be there too, Colonel Hogan. The generals will be delighted to hear that an American officer will be present."

Hogan rose from his seat too, and said, "My pleasure to entertain those generals, Major, but you know that according to the Geneva Convention, we can refuse to work."

Fuhrmann laughed. "What do you call work? I only need a few of your men as waiters. And I'm sure the generals would like to know how it's like to be the only officer in an enlisted men's camp."

"Oh, he is not the only officer here in this camp," interjected Klink. "There is one other officer. His name is Lieutenant Hogan."

Fuhrmann raised an eyebrow. "Lieutenant Hogan? Are you related to him, Colonel?"

"He is my brother."

"How heart-warming! Brothers reunited in a POW camp." Major Fuhrmann turned his attention back to Klink and asked, "I thought this is an enlisted men's camp. How come you have two officers as prisoners?"

"Well, Colonel Hogan was a prisoner before I became the Kommandant of this camp. And Lieutenant Hogan was placed here because no one was able to escape from here. You see, Major, he was an important Allied bomber pilot, and General Burkhalter wanted to make sure that he would not escape back to England."

"Aha." Fuhrmann turned his attention once again to Hogan. "I want him to attend the fundraising too. And make sure your men look presentable. I don't want to embarrass myself in front of those generals."

"I will," Hogan said dryly and saluted. Then he turned around and left the office, heading back to barracks 2.

* * *

When Hogan entered the main room of the barracks, his men were already seated at the table and waited for his return.

Jout looked up from his cup of tea and asked, "I guess that means I have pack out my dress uniform?"

Hogan went over to the stove and poured himself a cup of coffee. He sat down at the head of the table and said, "Yes. You and I will attend the fundraising while Newkirk, Carter, and Baker will play waiters. LeBeau, you will prepare the food. I want to keep a wary eye on this Major Fuhrmann; I have the feeling he is up to something." He glanced at Baker. "What did Albert have to say about Fuhrmann?"

Baker retrieved a blue piece of paper from his pocket. "His contact know him from Düsseldorf where he is normally stationed. Right now, Fuhrmann acts as the temporary replacement for Hochstetter while he is working on a big case in Berlin. According to Albert's contact, Fuhrmann is not an easy man to deal with. He is known to use the more brutal interrogation methods in order to get what he wants. They also said he is like a bloodhound; he only stops with his investigations when he has a confession. And for him, it doesn't matter whether this confession is true or not."

"Sounds like lovely company," Newkirk muttered, still with a cigarette between his lips.

"Yeah, and now he is after us." Jout stared into his mug. "And he already came close to get us; three times. With one dead child."

"There won't be a fourth time. Not if I can help it," Hogan declared. "Snow Fox's death was not for nothing."

* * *

 **[1] – Gruppenführer Fegelein was a high-ranking commander in the Waffen-SS of Nazi Germany. He was a member of Adolf Hitler's entourage and brother-in-law to Eva Braun through his marriage to her sister Gretl. Fegelein was present at the failed attempt on Hitler's life on 20 July 1944. He was on dury at Hitler's** _ **Führerbunker**_ **in Berlin in the closing months of the war, and was shot for desertion on 28 April 1945, two days before Hitler's suicide.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry for the long wait, but between a camping trip and the world cup I haven't found time to write. But now I've managed to complete a new chapter, and I hope you will like it.**

* * *

Jout stood in front of the mirror by the sink as he tied his tie. In two hours, Major Fuhrmann's fundraising party was scheduled to start and Hogan and his men were expected to be in Klink's quarters in ten minutes. LeBeau was ordered to cook and Newkirk, Carter, and Baker were acting as waiters, and so they had to prepare the party. Hogan and Jout would watch things over until the guests arrived, then they had to talk to the SS generals when those generals wanted. Jout was not looking forward to this, but it gave them a chance to observe Fuhrmann. When he finished tying his tie, he went over to Newkirk's bunk and removed his dress jacket from it to put it on. All the while he was being watched by Newkirk, who found his boyfriend incredible attractive in his dress uniform.

Jout straightened his jacket and asked his friends, "You know, I don't understand why Fuhrmann wants me to be there too. I mean, if it's about having an officer at the party, Rob will be there. And he is a colonel. I'm merely a lieutenant."

"Merely?" asked Newkirk as he took a drag from his cigarette. "Ya are a lieutenant at the age of 21 and became one when ya were 17. 'at's impressive."

"Maybe, but he did not know my age when he ordered me to attend the party," Jout said. "I just have a bad feeling, that's all."

"You don't have to," came his brother's voice from the office. He was dressed in his dress uniform too. "I don't think Fuhrmann will try anything funny during a fundraising party with the SS. We'll just watch him and do a little small talk with those generals. But be careful; I'm sure those generals will try to gain some information."

Jout nodded and went over to his footlocker to place his cap and flight jacket into it. Hogan observed his brother's walk and said, "Seems like your ankle is fine again. You don't limp anymore."

"Not really." Jout closed his footlocker and rose to his feet. He went over to the table and placed his right foot on a stool. He rolled up his trouser leg and revealed a thick bandage up to his mid-calf. "I went over to Wilson and told him about the fundraising and that he needed to do something about my limping because Fuhrmann could not see that. He bandaged my ankle so tight that I don't feel it anymore. Said I had to remove the bandage as soon as the fundraising his over because of the hindered blood circulation."

He rolled down his trouser leg again while Hogan said, "I don't like that. Maybe we should tell Klink that you don't feel well."

Right then, the barracks' door was opened, and Schultz entered the main room. "Colonel Hogan, Major Fuhrmann wants you and your men at the Kommandant's quarters."

"Yeah, just a moment, Schultz" Hogan waved his hand at Schultz and looked back at his brother.

"No, no, no. My orders are to bring you all to the Kommandant's quarters. _Sofort_!" Schultz exclaimed and pointed at the door.

Jout straightened his jacket one more time and walked over to Schultz and clapped him on his big shoulder. "We're on our way, Schultzie. Don't want you to get in trouble."

Jout sauntered through the door, with that giving his brother no chance to prevent his attendance at the fundraising party, always making sure to favour his right ankle without giving away his injury. As the group strolled through the compound, there was no other prisoner in sight. Klink had confined them all to their barracks to prevent possible insolences of the prisoners towards the generals. Jout went up the stairs to Klink's quarters directly behind Hogan and Schultz, carefully observing his surroundings. There were two guards posted at the door, Sergeants Kaufmann and Ehring; two more of the strict guards. They were holding their machine guns firm and radiated a tensed atmosphere, as if they were guarding the Fuhrer. Klink probably intended to impress the generals, or maybe Fuhrmann was the one who wanted to impress them; whoever it was, he did not help Jout to calm down. When he entered Klink's living room, Jout saw Klink and Fuhrmann standing in the middle of the room, talking with each other. Fuhrmann was much taller than Klink (Jout guessed him to be about six feet) and looked younger and more athletic (Fuhrmann was probably in his mid-thirties). His short and neatly trimmed fire red hair contrasted with his raven-black uniform, and even though Jout found him physically attractive, Fuhrmann was much more intimidating than Hochstetter.

Fuhrmann stopped talking with Klink once he noticed Hogan and his men. "Right on time, my dear Colonel Hogan. I hope your men are fit to work."

Free of any emotion, Hogan answered. "They are. Corporal LeBeau is an excellent chef, and Corporal Newkirk as well as Sergeants Carter and Baker are experienced waiters."

"That's good to hear." Fuhrmann looked past Hogan at the other prisoners and ordered, "Start with the preparations. I want everything to be perfect for my guests."

The men shuffled away; LeBeau into the kitchen and the other three began to clean and arrange Klink's quarters. Jout stayed by his brother's side, trying to act as carefree as possible in the presence of the man who was after them and who was responsible for Snow Fox's death. Whatever it was, something about Fuhrmann made Jout uneasy.

Without acknowledging Jout's presence, Fuhrmann turned to Klink and asked, "Who is responsible for the background music?"

"Ahem…who?" Klink asked, his voice showing how nervous he was. "I thought about letting a record play in the background."

Fuhrmann rolled his eyes. "Klink, you can't invite the high and mighty of the SS without having someone playing some music. The record player is fine, but not the whole time. Do I have to do everything around here?"

"Well, Major Fuhrmann, I could play some musical pieces on the violin," offered Klink as he nervously fidgeted with his hands.

"God no!" Fuhrmann exclaimed. "I know enough people who complained about your awful playing." The major looked back at Hogan and, for the first time, at Jout. "Can any of you play a musical instrument?"

"Only the drums, but I don't think that's sophisticated enough for your guests," laughed Hogan, his bold attitude present as ever. He knew how dangerous Fuhrmann was for them and their operation, but Hogan would never show his worry. As long as he was cocky, his men knew that nothing was lost.

Jout had lowered his glance and did not react; only after he felt the other three men's stares at him did he look up. "Well, I learned to play the piano. But the last time I played was at least three years ago, so I'm not sure if I still can."

Hogan gave his brother a surprised look. Even after more than one year of being united again, he still learned new things about his younger brother every day. He had the feeling that Jout still felt not comfortable with revealing things about himself; a fact he definitely needed to address.

"There's only one way to find out." Fuhrmann walked to the piano that stood next to the entrance and opened the lid. "Say, Klink, why do you have a piano when you can't even play?"

"I only bought it recently, Major Fuhrmann. I haven't had the chance to learn it yet," explained Klink while he followed Fuhrmann.

Fuhrmann snorted and turned to Jout, pointing at the stool in front of the piano. Completely uncomfortable, especially since his friends stopped working to observe him, Jout looked first at Hogan, who gave him a small but reassuring nod, and then back at Fuhrmann. "What do you want me to play, Major?" he asked as he sat down.

"I think my guests would enjoy some classical music. How about Mozart's "Rondo Alla Turca"? That's pretty famous," Fuhrmann suggested.

"I can try, Major. But like I said, I haven't played for more than three years."

"And I'm sure you're still better than Klink will ever be. Now try." Klink was about to interject at Fuhrmann's remark, but the Gestapo major shot him a warning glance which silenced Klink. There was something about Fuhrmann that made him seem menacing.

Jout took a deep breath and cracked his knuckles. Now he would see how good of a teacher Reverend Adler had been. The first notes Jout played sounded a bit jarring and he had trouble finding the right rhythm, but bit by bit his piano skills emerged again. And with every note he hit, Jout grew more and more confident at playing. He was completely concentrated on the music piece he played, which made him forget that there were people listening to him. His friends and brother were fascinated by Jout's unexpected skills; especially Newkirk was surprised but extremely smitten by his boyfriend's musical talent. When he was finished, Jout averted his gaze from the piano and looked at his friends, their fascinated stares making him smile shyly.

Fuhrmann clapped in his hands and announced, "That's good enough for my guests. I advice you to play pieces of distinguished German composers or my guests won't be happy. And if their unhappy, I'm unhappy. And you don't want to see me unhappy."

Jout gulped and began to tremble slightly. It was not even Fuhrmann's threat that sent a chill down his spine, but rather his pitch-black eyes. They matched his uniform and they way they sparkled had something diabolical; a sparkle that reminded Jout of the way his father's eyes had always flashed when he had beaten him up.

It seemed like Jout was not the only one intimidated by Fuhrmann. Klink was equally nervous and feared a transfer to the Russian front if the fundraising party did not go well. So he walked over to the bookshelf by the window and said, "Major Fuhrmann, I have a music book with the most famous musical pieces of great German composers. Perhaps Lieutenant Hogan could use it while he plays for your guests."

"That's a great idea," said Fuhrmann. He glanced back at Jout and said, "Now use the time until the party to practise. Only the best for my guests"

* * *

 _Four hours later…_

The party was already going for two hours, and so far, Jout had made a pretty good job at avoiding to talk with those SS generals. He simply stuck to the piano most of the time and when he took a break, Hogan did not leave his side while mingling with the German officers and their wives. His brother helped him to reduce his nervousness, as well as the praising comments he received from the Germans for his musical talent. But every time he looked into Fuhrmann's direction, he was greeted by the sight of the red-headed major watching him closely with a predatory smile on his face; a smile that made his blood run cold.

After another round of piano playing, Jout excused himself to use the bathroom in Klink's quarters. As he washed his hands, he splashed some cold water into his face to freshen himself up and to cool down his nerves. Fuhrmann's presence and constant staring was making him jumpy; he feared something awful to happen at any moment. He did not trust Fuhrmann. There had to be a reason why he held the party at Stalag 13; and why he demanded that he and his brother attended it. Knowing that Fuhrmann was after Papa Bear, Jout had a bad suspicion. What if Fuhrmann suspected Hogan to be Papa Bear? Or worse, what if he _**knew**_ that Hogan was Papa Bear, and only needed valid evidence? Jout took a deep breath to regain his composure. Worry himself to death would not help the situation; he had to talk to his brother after the party.

Jout checked himself in the mirror once more, and then he opened the bathroom door to return to the living room again. But as he stepped out of it, he saw Fuhrmann leaning against the wall of the hallway.

Fuhrmann looked up from the ground and flashed a smile at Jout. " _Hallo_ , Lieutenant. Are you feeling alright? You're white as a sheet."

Fuhrmann stalked towards him and Jout immediately backed away from him until his back met the wall. When Fuhrmann kept coming closer, he practically pressed himself into the wall. "I'm…I'm fine, Major," Jout stammered. He looked down at his pale hands and smiled. "You see, since I'm a prisoner in your beautiful country, I'm not as often in the fresh air as I should be. No wonder I'm ashen-faced."

"Is that so?" Standing only inches apart, Fuhrmann looked Jout over, making him extremely uncomfortable. "Anyways, I wanted to talk to you, Lieutenan.t"

Jout gulped again, not liking the sound of the major's voice. "And that's why you head me off at the bathroom?"

"That's the only place I can catch you alone," Fuhrmann laughed. "Otherwise, your brother is always with you."

"Well, what can I do for you, Major?"

In a low voice, Fuhrmann asked, "Does the name "Papa Bear" ring a bell?"

Jout succeeded in controlling his facial expression and appearing calm, but inwardly, his heart was racing. "Papa Bear?" he repeated at last. "That's a character in a famous fairy tale. My brother used to read it to me all the time when I was young."

"Really? What is it called?"

"Goldilocks and the Three Bears. Why do you want to know, Major?"

Fuhrmann moved his head to Jout's ear, trapping the American in between the wall and himself. "Papa Bear is the name of an important underground leader who operates in this area. And you know what? I think Papa Bear is your very dear brother."

Jout began to laugh, still being trapped by the major. "That sounds ridiculous, Major. My brother is a POW. How is he supposed to be an underground leader?"

"That is what my superiors say too. But once I found out how he does it, you will not be laughing anymore. You will **all** end up in front of a firing squad and **I** will be the one who gives the order to shoot." Fuhrmann backed away from Jout and while he walked away to the living room, he gave a sardonic laughter that went marrow-deep that left Jout glued to the spot.


	4. Chapter 4

_One week later…_

Jout lay on his bunk and read Ann's letter he had received during mail call. Everything was going fine; Tommy liked going to school and often spent time at a friend's small farm, and Ann managed to get them by with her secretary job. She had sent a new picture of Tommy with his best friend Dan too, which found its way straight into Jout's inner jacket pocket. He missed him dreadfully, and only hoped that the war would end soon so that he would be reunited with his son again. Since he was gay, Jout never thought he would have own children, and even though Tommy was not his biological son, he thought of him like his own. And because of his abusive father, Jout never understood what his neighbour Mrs Vaughn meant by saying that having a child means to have your heart walking around outside your body. His father never worried about him; his only use for Jout was to have a punching bag. But since he knew Tommy, he could be as happy as he could; only when he knew that Tommy was fine, he was truly happy.

He glanced over at Newkirk, who lay in his own bunk and was reading the letters he got from his sister and mother. He did not notice Jout watching him, and so Jout used the opportunity to unobtrusively observe his boyfriend. Newkirk really was the love of his life, and he loved to simply watch his movements, because for him, there was no one more attractive than the handsome, dark-haired Brit. Though this was one of their top arguments; Newkirk's insecurities with his body. He always acted in front of the others like he was so sure of himself, of his looks. As if he thought that he was the most attractive man in the world, and that the ladies would think that too. Of course Jout knew that the part with the ladies was only an act for those outside the barracks, but even those who knew that Newkirk was gay thought he was full of his own importance. However, Jout knew that this was not true; how insecure he really was. Jout loved Newkirk's slender build, though it was beginning to take an unhealthy turn as the war progressed; when they made love recently, Jout was able to see every single rib under Newkirk's skin. He only hoped the war would end soon so that Newkirk would build up some body mass again. But still, Jout loved that Newkirk was not build like a hunk, and even though he did not like beard stubbles on his own face, Jout thought Newkirk looked incredible sexy with a two-day stubble. But exactly this thin figure of his made Newkirk doubt himself; especially since he started comparing his build with Jout's muscular one. Jout always tried to explain to Newkirk that he thought of him as the most fetching and studly man he has ever laid eyes on and that he did not want him to change; maybe only gain a few pounds so that he was not all skin and bones anymore. However, Newkirk continued to be unsatisfied with his looks. That was probably an argument Jout would never win, but he was absolutely willing to try.

Jout had just put his letter in his jacket pocket for later re-reading, when suddenly the door was opened and a commanding, " _Achtung_!" echoed through the barracks, accompanied by multiple soldiers in black Gestapo-uniforms. Jout immediately jumped from his bunk and came to attention like every other prisoner in the room. With Schultz or Langenscheidt one could be sloppy, but not with the Gestapo. Next in came Major Fuhrmann and Colonel Klink, as well as Hogan, who entered the main room from his adjoined office.

"What is going on here?" asked Hogan, stopping by the stove.

"At ease," Fuhrmann announced before he answered Hogan's question, the prisoners complying the order. Fuhrmann stepped over to Hogan and said, "Nice seeing you again, Colonel Hogan." Then he pointed at the other Gestapo soldiers. "Oh, them? You see, it's just a regular barracks check. Nothing unusual." He snapped his fingers and the soldiers started searching the barracks, with that causing havoc among the barracks' interior.

"And why does the Gestapo bother with searching POW camps?" Hogan retorted while he stepped away from the stove when one of the soldiers began to search it.

"Just some irregularities I came across," Fuhrmann answered without even looking at Hogan. He was to busy walking around the barracks and observing his men. Suddenly he stopped in front of Jout and flashed a grin at him. " _Hallo_ , Lieutenant Hogan. Nice seeing you again too."

"I could have done without a reencounter," Jout said and stared straight ahead with his hands placed behind his back.

Fuhrmann began to laugh as he walked to the foot of the bunk. He stopped in front of Jout's footlocker and kicked against it slightly. "Is that yours, Lieutenant?"

All Jout give him was a nod, and Fuhrmann waved one of his soldiers over. As everyone in the barracks watched, the soldier opened the footlocker and emptied its contents out in front of Jout's feet. While he did that, Jout made no move to complain about the German's actions.

But not so his brother. "Hey, can't you order your man to be more careful? There are private belongings in there."

Hogan's protest fell on deaf ears as Fuhrmann knelt down and rummaged through the now open-lying contents of Jout's footlocker. A few books, multiple neatly tied bundles of letters, many pictures, as well as clothes, his shaving kit and at least a dozen cigarette packs.

Fuhrmann picked up one of the letter bundles and held it in front of Jout's face. " _Mei_ , so many letters. Seems like you are important to someone." He pulled at the string that held the letters together and let them fall to the ground. " _Ups_ , my fault. I hope you're not angry with me," Fuhrmann grinned.

Jout stared at him for a moment, and then he said in a calm voice, "Not at all, Major. I wanted to clean out my footlocker for weeks. Thanks for helping me."

"I try to help where I can," retorted Fuhrmann. He pushed Jout's belongings away with his feet and stepped closer to the American. Then he leaned in so that his mouth was by Jout's ear and whispered, "You know, I can't wait to get my hands on you when we're alone in a Gestapo cell. We will have so much fun together."

Fuhrmann began to laugh again and walked out of the barracks with his soldiers and Klink in tow while Jout knelt down and began to collect the letters from the opened bundle, his expression unreadable. With the Gestapo gone, the prisoners began to relax again and left their spots by their bunks; some went outside, some lay or sat down on their bunks. But one thing they had in common; they all eyed Jout, feeling uncomfortable as they watched the American lieutenant collecting his belongings from the ground. Only when Carter crouched beside him and started helping Jout did the others stopped watching him.

"Blimey, what's gone into Fuhrmann?" asked Newkirk as he lit up a cigarette to cool his nerves. "Did he really thought he would find evidence lying around in Josh's footlocker?"

"I'm sure he only wanted to demonstrate his power as a Gestapo major over us as POW's," Hogan explained as he walked over to where his brother knelt. "Josh, what did Fuhrmann say to you?"

Jout averted his gaze from his possessions and looked his brother in the eyes, an intense stare in them. "Said he couldn't wait to get his hands on me in a Gestapo cell." He resumed the collecting process as if nothing had happened; as if he was not just threatened with torture.

"Bleedin' bastard," hissed Newkirk while he sat down by the common table, feeling sick and a bit dizzy as an intense wave of worry for his boyfriend washed through his body.

Hogan drove with his hand over his face as his little brother's words sunk in. Immediately, his mind was rotating, already trying to find a way out of this mess.

His thinking was interrupted when LeBeau asked, "Why is Fuhrmann after Jout, _mon Colonel_? I thought he thinks **you** are Papa Bear."

Hogan opened his mouth to answer, but Jout was faster. "He wants to use me as a bait," he answered the Frenchman's question matter-of-factly while putting his belongings back into his footlocker.

"For what?" piped Carter up, who was currently folding Jout's clothes.

"He thinks that if he interrogates me in Gestapo HQ, Rob and you all will come to rescue me. I'm certain he will be guarding the building better than Berchtesgaden, hoping to catch Papa Bear in the act." Jout rose to his feet and looked around the room, his eyes landing on his brother at last. "You have to promise me that when he brings me away, you won't come to rescue me."

The other guys began to loudly utter their protest over, in their opinion, Jout's ridiculous wish. Hogan raised his hands and voice to make the others stop and concentrate their attention on him. "Hold it, guys!" He turned to his brother. "First, we don't even no **if** he makes his threat reality. Maybe Fuhrmann only wants to scare us. And second, you can't possibly ask me to sit on my hands while the Gestapo detains my little brother for questioning."

"Me neither," added Newkirk in a bitter voice. "Ya're barmy if ya think I'll sit still while the Gestapo 'as ya and does who knows what with ya."

"I didn't say you should do nothing, just not a head-on attack on Gestapo HQ." Jout stared intensely at his boyfriend, then at his brother again. "Promise me you won't try to free me personally. Promise me you won't risk the lives of every prisoner in this camp to get me out of there."

Jout saw Hogan struggling with making such a promise, even though Hogan knew Jout was right. London would never approve of trying to save one life if it put hundreds at risk. But still, it was the life of his little brother they were talking about. "We'll talk about it if, and I say **if** , it's time to talk about such a decision." With that the matter was closed for Hogan and he retreated into his office to think about the most recent event.

* * *

Later that night, Jout lay in Newkirk's arms after they had made love to each other. They were in Newkirk's sewing room, a blanket underneath them and another one drawn up to their waists while the room's entrance was veiled by a thick black curtain. It became an unspoken signal among Hogan's core team that when the black curtain hang, they were not to enter the sewing section unless they wanted to see things that never could be unseen and aggravate a certain short-tempered Englishman. And for Jout and Newkirk it was a possibility to have some intimate time together without being interrupted; though it meant to receive some funny looks from their friends now and then when they emerged again. But if that was the only "price" for some time alone with each other, the couple did not care.

Jout's head lay on Newkirk's broad shoulder, his body snuggled into the Brit's side. With his fingertips he was lightly driving across Newkirk's bare chest, feeling heated skin and damp hairs. Jout stayed with his fingers on his chest and did not caress the rest of the upper body because the feel of Newkirk's thin body made him cringe. All the while, Newkirk had his arms slung around the American, holding him close to his body. So many thoughts were racing through his mind, and all concerned Jout and Fuhrmann, and he just needed to have his boyfriend tightly in his arms.

"What's on your mind, love?" asked Jout, never ceasing the movement of his fingers.

"Fuhrmann."

"Really? I obviously haven't exerted myself enough if **he** is on your mind after us making love," Jout answered playfully, trying to lighten up the mood. "But I can try to change tha.t"

Jout began to peck at Newkirk's neck and rolled partially on him, wanting to love his boyfriend once again. But Newkirk slid his right hand in between his neck and Jout's mouth and rolled on his left side, gazing deep into his lover's chocolate brown eyes.

Newkirk placed a hand on Jout's hip and asked, "Why don't ya want to be saved by us in case Fuhrmann takes ya away?"

Jout returned Newkirk's stare as he himself placed a hand on the Brit's hip too. "Haven't we already discussed that? Fuhrmann wants to take down Rob, and he probably wants to use me to set up a trap for him. The only way to save the operation is not doing what Fuhrmann wants us to do. And that would mean that if he really takes me to Gestapo HQ, you cannot come to rescue me." Jout began to slowly drive across Newkirk's side. "But why worry about something we don't even know if happening. Maybe Rob's right and Fuhrmann only wants to scare us so that we make a mistake."

"But what if 'e really comes for ya?" Newkirk interjected, his voice slightly raised. " 'ave ya forgotten what Albert's contact said? Fuhrmann is known to use the more brutal interrogation methods. Don't ya realise that ya could die if we leave ya at 'is mercy?"

"Of course I know that!"

"Then why do ya insist on not bein' rescued? Ya know that we 'ave always found a way to get what we wanted, and we surely would find a way to rescue ya without givin' our operation away." Newkirk stopped and glanced away, biting his lower lip. "I would not survive it if ya die. Not when we 'ad the capability to prevent it."

"Oh, Peter," Jout said as he brought his hand up to his boyfriend's cheek and began to tenderly caress it with his thumb. "I know it's hard to accept, but in the end, this is a question of whether to save one life or hundreds of lives. And if all the men in this camp plus many agents in the underground would die because of you guys trying to free me, that's something I could not live with." Jout wrapped his arm around Newkirk's waist again and pulled him closer so that their noses were touching. He gave him a small kiss on his thin, pale pink lips. " **I** would not survive if something happened to **you** because of **me** "

Jout gave Newkirk another kiss, this time throwing in all the passion he had. When they pulled apart, Jout began to smile slightly and traced with his index finger along Newkirk's lips. "But enough of my hypothetical death. I have a lot more enjoyable things in mind; and they involve us not getting enough sleep tonight."

The corners of Newkirk's mouth raised and he sought his boyfriend's mouth, with that forgetting the dangerous reality for a moment as another round of making love began.


	5. Chapter 5

Jout stood by the sink only dressed in his shorts, undershirt, and socks while he brushed his teeth as another eventless day drew to an end. Since Fuhrmann's visit to camp four days ago, all underground activities involving Papa Bear stopped and the only radio contact was with Albert, who kept the men notified on Fuhrmann's activities. Hogan had decided to lay low until they knew what to do about Fuhrmann, because he found it too risky with Fuhrmann threatening his little brother. For Jout it was a welcome change; this break gave him the chance to spend even more time with Newkirk, talking with him about their life in London after the war or simply enjoying cuddling with him.

Most prisoners prepared for bed too; and then there were Newkirk and Carter, who always played cards until Schultz came in for lights out. Hogan drank his last cup of, now cold, ersatz coffee, and Baker read his favourite book. Jout was just finished with his evening routine when LeBeau came up to the sink and nudged him away to clean a few pans. Never one to unnecessarily aggravate the temperamental Frenchman, Jout stepped quickly away as he threw a towel over his left shoulder and went over to his footlocker while he dried off his toothbrush.

Just as Hogan sat down his cup and said goodnight to his men, the door burst open and Schultz came running into the barracks. Well, running was maybe a bit of an exaggeration. He was scurrying and panting, and the prisoners feared that he might have a heart attack.

Hogan was the first one to react. He walked over to Schultz and placed both hands on the German guard's big shoulders while he ordered, "Olsen, lookout!" Then he turned his attention back to Schultz and asked, "Schultz, why are you in such a hurry?"

Between the panting, the prisoners were able to make out a gasping, "Colonel Hogan!"

"That's my name alright, but what's going on? The only time I saw you running this fast was on the day the guards' mess hall had schnitzel."

By now Jout had made his way over to the common table and stood behind Newkirk, inconspicuously touching his arm as he wondered what got the German guard worked up.

Schultz brought his hand up to his mouth and coughed a few times as he tried to catch his breath. Once his breathing had returned to a regular pace, he quickly said, "Major Fuhrmann is in Colonel Klink's office. He wants to take Lieutenant Hogan away to Gestapo Headquarters."

It was as if Schultz had dropped a bomb among the prisoners. Everyone was completely shocked and Jout felt his heart beating in his ears as he stepped back, staring at his brother who was also looking at him, his eyes full of panic. But Hogan swiftly overcame the initial shock and pushed Schultz out of the barracks. "Thanks for informing us, Schultz, but we have things to discuss."

"Please, Colonel Hogan! Don't do any monkey business," pleaded Schultz.

Hogan just pushed him out without saying a word and Olsen immediately closed the door behind the baffled guard.

As Hogan turned around to gaze at his little brother again, Jout simply stated, "I think now it's the right time to discuss you not coming to get me out."

Newkirk instantly rose from his seat and yelled, "Don't do it, gov'nor! When I got captured, ya lot saved me from the Gestapo too [1]. We would never ever desert one of us!"

"Peter, the Gestapo didn't know your true identity back then," interjected Jout while he walked over to his footlocker to put on his shirt, pants, and shoes. "Besides, I thought we already discussed this matter. Fuhrmann wants to build a trap to get Papa Bear, and I won't allow that the life of every prisoner is put in danger just to rescue me. End of discussion!"

Of course this was not the end, but only the beginning. Once again Hogan found himself surrounded by his core team shouting at each other; something that did not help the situation at all. So he raised his voice and declared, "Josh, Newkirk, my office! Olsen, the door! Get me if something happens."

He marched into his office with his little brother and his boyfriend right behind him. Hogan closed the door after the Brit had entered the small room and eyed the two men in front of him. "Alright. I'd say we have," Hogan glanced at his watch. "Three minutes to decide what to do. Though it affects every single man in this camp as well as many agents in the underground, it seems like this is more of a family affair between us three. What are the arguments?"

"You know my point of view, Rob," answered Jout calmly. "It's an easy calculation. One life or hundreds of lives."

"Now stop playin' the 'ero for one bleedin' second!" screamed Newkirk, his fists clenched. "This is not just any life we're talkin' about. This is yer life! 'ave ya even the slightest idea what will 'appen to me if ya die?"

"I do," Jout moved closer to his boyfriend and took his hand in his own, squeezing it gently. "I've been through it once, with Henri. But this is war, Peter! Not everyone survives it, and we knew what we signed up for when we joined this unit." Jout turned back to his brother and stared him intensely in his chocolate brown eyes, the same shade as his own. "What will you do, Rob?"

Hogan gazed at his brother, then at Newkirk, and then back at his brother. A million thoughts were racing through his mind as he calculated every possible outcome of this situation. In the end, he pinched his nose and took a deep breath as he made a fateful decision; one he would regret for the rest of his life, no matter the outcome. "We don't do anything."

Jout gave him a slight nod, his face showing relief at his brother's decision. But Newkirk was not willing to accept his CO's decision so easily.

"Are ya out of yer bloody mind!" he exclaimed, throwing the little respect he had for Hogan's rank away. " 'ow can ya decide to leave yer brother with the Gestapo!"

Hogan understood Newkirk's aggressive reaction; he himself hated the decision just as much as the angry Brit did. But he could not allow Newkirk's relationship with his little brother to make Newkirk forget who was in charge. "Corporal, listen closely. I hate this situation just as much as you do, but don't you forget who the commanding officer of this unit is, and who the NCO. We will try anything in our power to get Josh out of there without rising any suspicion, so there will be no head-on-attack. But if there's nothing we can do, we must accept it" Hogan looked back at his watch, sensing that there was not much time left until Fuhrmann would come into the barracks to get Jout. He raised his glance again and saw his brother still standing close to Newkirk, clutching the Brit's hand. So he decided to give the couple some time alone before Fuhrmann's arrival. "I will leave you two alone. I'll call you when Fuhrmann comes."

With that, Hogan stepped out of the room and closed the door behind him. Alone with his boyfriend, Jout turned to him and wrapped his arms around him, giving him a tight hug. He buried his face in Newkirk's neck and drank in his appealing musky cologne.

"I love you, Peter. Don't you ever forget that," said Jout with a muffled voice since his face was still buried in Newkirk's neck.

Newkirk pushed Jout slightly away from him but kept his hands on the American's shoulder blades. "Oh no! Ya're not goin' to say goodbye to me. Everythin' will turn out fine; nothin' will 'appen to ya, and Fuhrmann will die." He had a hard time holding back his tears as he gazed into Jout's chocolate brown eyes with their exceptional sparkle; a sparkle that once made him fall in love with the American officer.

Jout placed his right hand on Newkirk's cheek and began to slightly caress it, he himself staring into the other man's grey-green eyes as he desperately searched for the seductive twinkle they held whenever Newkirk looked at him. "I hope that too, love. But you know what they say. _Hope for the best and prepare for the worst_."

"I don't care what people say!" Newkirk declared sternly. "I won't say goodbye to ya because we'll see each other again."

"Peter, trust me. You will regret it in case I won't come back." Newkirk wanted to retort, but Jout stopped him by placing his thumb on his lips. "Before every operation, Henri and I said goodbye because we knew that every mission could be our last. Except for the day he died. He felt it wasn't right to think about our possible deaths the day he proposed. To this day, I regret not seeing him off; not having said "I love you" one last time." He stepped closer to Newkirk again, their chests touching. "I don't want you to feel the same in case I won't come back."

Jout leaned forward and kissed the Brit, lightly running his tongue across his lips. Newkirk slid his arms fully around Jout, savouring the feeling of his body and lips.

"I love ya, Josh," Newkirk whispered. "More than I 'ave loved anyone ever before. Ya are the love of me life" He kissed him again before laying his head on Jout's shoulder. "Promise me ya come back."

Jout drove with his left hand across Newkirk's back and with his right hand he held Newkirk's head close to his shoulder. "You know I can't promise that."

"I know…but do it nonetheless. I just need to 'ear those words from ya."

They stood in silence for a moment. Eventually, Jout sighed and said, "I promise to come back to you."

Jout gave Newkirk one last kiss before he disengaged himself from his boyfriend. Without saying anything else to each other, the couple opened the door and left Hogan's office. They were greeted with sad expressions among the other men; no doubt that Hogan had already informed them about his decision. Silently, Jout walked over to his bunk on which his jacket lay and removed a picture from its inner pocket. Then he opened his footlocker and placed the picture in it. He would not let Fuhrmann know about Tommy's existence. It was his duty as a father to protect him.

"Colonel, Klink and Fuhrmann are on their way," announced Olsen, with that taking everyone's attention away from Jout and on Hogan.

"Alright everyone, look busy," he ordered.

Everyone except Hogan's core team lay down on their bunks. LeBeau went back to cleaning the pans while Newkirk and Carter resumed to their card game. Baker joined them, and Hogan knelt down in front of the stove and made the impression of taking care of the fire. Jout stayed by his footlocker and pretended to rummage through it in search of something.

Seconds later, the barracks' door was opened for a second time that night. In came Klink and Fuhrmann as well as two other Gestapo soldiers. But other than four days ago, the prisoners made no move to rise to attention, all trying very hard to hide their hatred for the Gestapo major.

Fuhrmann was not deterred by the lack of respect, and simply said in his ongoing bold attitude, "No need to stand, gentlemen. It's already late, isn't it?"

Hogan closed the stove door and slowly rose to his feet. "You're right, Major," he said in a calm voice, trying very hard to not just punch Fuhrmann in the face. "In fact, we just wanted to go to bed"

"Don't worry, Colonel Hogan. It will only take a second to take your brother with me to Gestapo Headquarters"

Jout also rose to his feet the second Fuhrmann finished his sentence. All the prisoners stared at him, faking a shocked expression.

So did Hogan when he asked, "Why do you want to take Josh to Gestapo HQ?"

Fuhrmann grinned maliciously at Jout from across the room. Then he looked back at Hogan and said, "You see, I went through the prisoners' papers the last time I was here. And what caught my eyes? The dear Lieutenant Hogan has never been to a Dulag Luft. Isn't that a shame? So I talked with my superiors and we decided to catch up on it"

"It's been well over a year since his capture, Major Fuhrmann. What do you think you can glean from him?" asked Hogan, hoping to maybe prevent the unpreventable. Though he knew there was no way to convince Fuhrmann of not putting his plan in practise, he would not surrender without a fight.

"Well, this and that," answered Fuhrmann playfully. He turned to his soldiers and ordered, "Take Lieutenant Hogan to the car"

The two soldiers marched across the room to Jout, who by now had put his jacket and garrison cap on. They grabbed his upper arms roughly to escort him out of the room, but Jout pushed them off.

"I can walk on my own, thanks," Jout retorted, walking towards Fuhrmann without showing any sign of fear. Before he left the barracks, he glanced one last time at Newkirk, giving him an encouraging smile. "See you later, guys," he said in a happy tone. Then he turned around and stepped out of the barracks, with that leaving his brother, boyfriend, and friends behind, not knowing whether he would see them ever again.

* * *

 **[1] – Season 4, Episode 3,** _ **How To Catch A Papa Bear**_


	6. Chapter 6

Jout awoke to a blinding light. He immediately brought his right hand up to cover his eyes while he rolled onto his left side where a wall was to turn his back to the light. After he had blinked a few times, he was ready to sit up on the small cot and looked around; what he saw was not exactly heart-warming. Four grey concrete walls, about sixteen feet long each, no window, and only cot. There was not even a bucket for doing your business; somehow, the cooler had now a much greater appeal to Jout than before. He had been extremely surprised when last night, his captors only brought him to a cell and left him there. Jout had been sure that Fuhrmann would start interrogating him right away. But he would not complain; he knew that there lay hours of torture ahead of him. As he looked down at his wrists, he could already see the first bruises of his stay with the Gestapo. Last night when he had reached the car, Fuhrmann ordered to handcuff Jout. And the soldier who put them on made sure that they were tight, really tight. So now Jout sat in the small cell with swollen, incised, and bleeding wrists. He pulled his jacket sleeves over his hands to cover them from the dirt in the cell. Though he did not think he would survive his time with the Gestapo, he still tried to prevent an infection as best as he could. A small voice in the back of his mind reminded him of his loved ones back at the camp and London, and so Jout was determined to make it very hard for Fuhrmann to kill him.

As Jout stood up from the cot to stretch his legs and take a few steps around the tiny cell, he heard keys turning and next the heavy iron door to his cell was opened. He turned to see who was coming in; it were the two soldiers from last night. Trying to look cocky and bold, Jout began to smile and said, "Good morning, gentlemen. What can I do for you?"

The soldiers did not react to his remark, and in their ever present strict attitude, one of them barked, "Turn around!"

"Can you at least tell me where we are going?" Jout asked lightly as he attempted to hide his fear. "Maybe I need to change my clothing"

They seemed to be fed up with his lacking submissiveness, so they simply marched over to Jout, turned him around and yanked his arms roughly on his back. The whole time, Jout did not struggle; he knew it would be useless and only add more unnecessary pain. He heard handcuffs clicking and then he felt cold metal cutting into his open wounds, making Jout bid his lips to not show his pain. Next the two soldiers pushed him out of the room and lead him through the dark hallways of the Gestapo's cell section. Jout had to cringe his nose at the smell of stale urine, faeces, and blood. On his way to his probably first interrogation round, Jout sent a silent prayer to God, hoping his friends would indeed not come to his rescue. He did not want them to end up in this hell too.

Jout was lead out of the cell section and into the "prisoner entrance hall". It was made up of a staircase in the back that went up to the actual entrance hall, the one that made the impression of being in a regular police station. But as a prisoner, you would be brought downstairs where a Gestapo soldier sat at a desk and waited to add your name to his documents which made you officially a prisoner of the Gestapo. There were also two doors; one to the right and one to the left. The one to the right lead to the cells where the prisoners awaited interrogation; that's were Jout just came from. He did not know what was hiding behind the other door, but since the soldiers pushed him in that direction, he was about to find out. One of the soldiers, a tall guy with blonde hair and blue eyes, with that making him the perfect Aryan, opened the heavy iron door. Jout decided to call him Fritz and the other one, an evenly tall but black-haired guy, Hans. As soon as Jout entered the hallway behind the left door, he was greeted by pained screams and moans radiating through the corridor. Screams so horrific that made him cringe and stirred him to the core. He instantly walked slower as an attempt to delay what was about to happen. But Fritz and Hans forcefully pushed him through the hallway, always having a painfully-tight grip on his upper arms that would sure leave blue marks behind. However, this was the least of his problems.

As they reached the end of the long and dark hallway, Hans let go of him and Fritz immediately grabbed his other arm and tightened his grip. Fritz made Jout stop and the American watched how Hans opened another thick iron door. When the door was opened, Fritz lead him into the room and pushed him on a chair in the middle of the room, the only object in the small room. Jout felt how the handcuffs were removed, but before he could move his arms, Fritz chained his hands on the chair's arms. His feet were also chained to the chair, and then Fritz went over to one of the walls, simply standing there and watching him while Hans waited by the door. There was an excruciating silence that was only broken now and then by screams racked with pain coming down the hallway. All the while, Jout let his eyes wander around the room as he tried to block out the screams and the memories they produced. Yet again, there was no window and the only source of light was a tiny lightbulb hanging right over his head. The only other thing Jout was able to make out in the darkened room was a hook at the wall right in front of him.

Suddenly, Hans called, " _Achtung_!" and Jout heard how Fritz and Hans smashed their feet together. He took a deep breath, trying to mentally prepare himself for what was about to happen in the next few hours. He sent one last prayer to God, asking him for the strength to endure every wicked torture method the Gestapo had thought of without giving his friends away.

The next thing Jout heard was a voice ordering, " _Leutnant_ , close the door." He recognized the voice instantly; it was Fuhrmann. The Gestapo major slowly approached his prisoner and walked around him so he was able to look Jout in the eyes. "Good morning, Lieutenant Hogan. I trust you slept well"

"Hogan, Joshua Patrick, First Lieutenant, United States Army Air Force, 0958731," declared Jout, determined that this was the only information Fuhrmann would get from him.

Fuhrmann went over to the wall with the hook and leant against it. "Oh, I already know that. Among many other things." He grabbed into his pants pocket and retrieved a small piece of white paper. "Born February 15th, 1923 in Bridgeport, Connecticut to Edward and Margaret Hogan as the second of two sons. Mother died at the age of 36 in 1926. Father was an alcoholic and abused his sons. The older on, Robert, ran away from home and joined the Air Force when he was 18. The younger one, Joshua, didn't wait as long and joined the Air Force at the age of 14. Became a part of the American RAF unit in 1941, which was no problem because the mother was English-born. Was transferred to 324th Bombardment Squadron in 1942 and was shot down over Hammelburg in March 1943. Since then, a prisoner in Stalag 13" Fuhrmann put the piece of paper away and sneered at Jout. "Have I forgotten anything?"

Jout studied Fuhrmann's face, watching how his pitch-black eye sparkled diabolically at him, just like the first time they met in Klink's quarters. Right now, he liked nothing more than to wipe the sardonic smirk off the red-haired major's face, but not only did his tied hands prevented him from doing so, but Fuhrmann also gave Jout unknowingly the name of a spy in London. Since the information about his abusive father did not stand in his record because he once told the recruiting officer that he was an orphan, Fuhrmann could have gotten this piece of information from only one person; Captain John Stewart, aide to General Gallagher. The two became friends since General Gallagher often visited Jout and brought the captain with him. He was the only one besides his friends in camp and brother who knew about his abusive father; not even General Gallagher.

So Jout decided to do nothing and lull Fuhrmann into a sense of security in case he ever got the chance to tell his friends about the spy. "Hogan, Joshua Patrick, First Lieutenant, United States Army Air Force, 0958731"

"Come on, don't start with that name-rank-serial number nonsense," Fuhrman said and snapped his fingers. Jout heard boots shuffle over the ground and next he saw Hans standing in front of him. "I think you're already familiar with _Leutnant_ Thelig, aren't you?"

"Yeah, he's one of your sidekicks. I named him Hans," Jout answered, trying to appear as cocky as possible. There was no way he would ever let Fuhrmann see that he was beyond afraid. If it was his fate to die, it would be a death with dignity.

Fuhrmann started to laugh while Hans only stared at him, keeping a straight face and a ferocious expression in his eyes. When Fuhrmann stopped laughing, his face turned serious. "Listen to me, Lieutenant. We can do this the easy or the hard way. Either you tell me what I want to hear, or _Leutnant_ Thelig will show you what he has learned in his boxing club. So, is Colonel Hogan the famous underground agent Papa Bear?"

Jout's eyes drifted to the big German lieutenant standing next to Fuhrmann, who was cracking his knuckles and now started to sneer at him and it sent a shiver down his spine. Of course Jout knew that a stay with the Gestapo was no walk in the park, but the sight of the buff German made it clear that the next hours were going to be painful. He looked back at Fuhrmann and stated, "I don't think so. Unless my brother turned into a fairy tale character, but that would be a bit unrealistic since it meant that he is a bear, which I'm sure he isn't"

In a matter of seconds, Jout felt a stinging pain in his face that made him fell over with the chair he was chained to. Then there was an equally hurtful blow to his stomach combined with the feeling of steel-toed boots kicking his head. Jout closed his eyes as he silently endured the abuse; only now and then a soft pain-filled moan would escape his lips. Slow but steady, he was drifting into a darkness that erased the pain he felt. Oh, what a beautiful darkness it was.

* * *

"Papa Bear calling Blue Moon. Are you there, Blue Moon?" Hogan asked through the microphone as he tried to reach Albert. He had called him right after Jout was brought away last night, asking him to observe the Gestapo headquarter to see if anything seemed strange and to look for the best way to get in. Even though Hogan had promised his little brother to do nothing to not put the prisoners in danger, he would definitely not just sit around and do nothing.

As they waited for Albert's reply, Hogan watched his men closely. He could see the worry in everyone's faces; however, it was evident to him that the situation was burdening Newkirk the most. His eyes were extremely small, showing the world that he had not slept a wink last night, and the first black beard-stubbles were appearing on his face, making him look dishevelled. The Brit was currently smoking his what must be hundredth cigarette or so judging from the American cigarette pack in his hands, which meant he was already using Jout's supply.

Suddenly, there was a crack in the line that turned his attention away from Newkirk and back to the microphone in his hands. "Blue Moon speaking"

"Good to hear from you. Any news from the Big Bad Wolf?" Hogan questioned, using the codeword for Fuhrmann.

"Yes indeed, Papa Bear. There is no way to get into his cave. Any other wolf with prey was denied entrance, and the other wolves that came alone had to show the watchdog something in order to get in. Big Bad Wolf's cave is completely closed off. Trying to get in would be a suicide mission"

"Dammit!" Hogan muttered under his breath, then he closed his eyes and pinched the back of his nose. "Understood, Blue Moon. Thank you for your effort and please continue the watching. Papa Bear out"

Hogan put the microphone down while Baker stopped the radio connection. The radio room was filled by a tensed yet at the same time somehow realizing silence. As Hogan looked down from the table with the radio equipment, he could see Newkirk staring to the ground, trying hard to fight back his tears. LeBeau wordlessly and almost unnoticeably moved a bit closer to his British friend, hoping to spend a bit comfort by his actions.

It was Carter who broke the silence with his childish naivety. "What does this mean, Colonel?"

"It means," Hogan started as his voice failed. He took a deep breath before he continued, "It means that Josh is left at the mercy of Fuhrmann and we have no way to help him"


	7. Chapter 7

A cold wind pulled Jout from the comforting darkness he was in. As he slowly regained consciousness, he had to blink a few times before he found the strength to fully open his eyes and he was once more blinded by the cell light. But when he tried to roll onto his side again to avoid the light, he immediately felt a searing pain radiating from his torso that took his breath away. However, that was not the only thing he felt. Besides the intense ache, there was also a pair of hands he felt on his body, gently pressing him down, accompanied with a soft, "Don't move. Your ribs are broken." Startled by the presence of another person and by the memories of the last hours that flooded his mind, Jout pressed his eyes tight shut before he opened them again and focused his sight on the person kneeling next to him. What first caught his eyes was the black uniform the person wore, which made him panic and he tried to get away from it faster than the speed of light.

But once again his movement was restricted by the person next to him, who pressed him down again and said, "Don't be afraid. I won't hurt you. I want to help you."

Since he could not get away, not only because of the hands but also because of the pain in his body, Jout stopped struggling and took a closer look at the man next to him. He was flaxen-haired and had sparkling blue eyes. His facial traits were soft, unlike the rough facial features of the other Gestapo soldiers, which made him seem incredible young and vulnerable, reminding him of Carter.

"How come you want to help me?" Jout croaked out, his throat burning. "Aren't you afraid of Fuhrmann?"

The man pulled out a bandage from the bag lying next to him and folded it, then pressing it onto Jout's forehead, right under the hair-line. While he took Jout's hand and placed it on top of the bandage, he said, "Here, hold it. I can't stich up the cut in here, but the pressure will at least stop the bleeding." He looked into Jout's questioning face and sighed. "Fuhrmann won't do me any harm. He ordered me to look you over."

"Ah, so you are not really trying to help me. You're just here to make me fit for another round of beating. Well, thanks a lot, chap."

"No, you don't understand. I really want to help you" The young man turned around and rummaged around his bag until he found a small bottle and syringe. He stuck the syringe into the bottle and filled it with the lucent liquid. Jout immediately tensed up, fearing a truth serum. The Gestapo soldier saw Jout's fearing stare at the needle in his hand and quickly assured, "Don't worry; it's not a truth serum. It's a sedative so that your body has more time to rest. Trust me, I want to make it hard for them, not easy."

Jout still not trusted the man kneeling next to him, but the thought of going back to that comforting darkness compared with his eyes that reminded him of his boyfriend's made him relax. However, he did not give in so easily. "Why should I trust you?" questioned Jout. "You're Gestapo. Plus, I don't even know your name."

The young man stretched his hand out and kindly smiled at the American. "My name is Emil. _Leutnant_ Emil Becker. And right now, I'm your only chance to survive."

Jout eyed him for a while, and in the end, he gave in to the pain he felt. He took the other man's hand and shook it. "Lieutenant Joshua P. Hogan. Seems like we're the same rank if I remember correctly."

Emil gave him a small smile as he put the bottle with the lucent liquid back into his back. " _Ja,_ that is right. Now I want you to just relax. This sedative while postpone the next interrogation, which gives you and your body enough time to rest and brace yourself for what's coming next."

He took Jout's arm and injected the sedative. Then he put the syringe back into the bag and gently lifted Jout into his arms, placing him carefully onto the cot. But that was something Jout did not notice anymore, since he was already back in the comforting darkness, forgetting all about his pain and what was lying ahead of him.

* * *

Newkirk entered the sewing room and walked straight to the rearmost corner, right beside one of the clothes racks on the right side of the room. He knelt down and started skimming about five inches of the soil, revealing a small silver metal box that he had got from the smithery. Newkirk blew away the dust on it and went over to the table in the middle of the room. He sat down on a nearby stool, putting the box on the table and simply stared at it for a long time as he felt his heart aching for his boyfriend. No one of his friends knew about the metal box full of love letters from Jout buried in the sewing section. That was his little secret; his hideaway on bad days. Before his relationship with the young American, Newkirk had never written any love letters. He had always thought of them as silly notes kids write each other. Since he was not attracted to girls, he simply saw no sense in writing the girls he was with letters about his feelings for them that did not exist. And the guys he was with were mostly interested in the sexual part of a relationship; just like he was. But since Jout wrote his first love letter on Christmas last year, Newkirk finally understood how mature and meaningful love letters could be; and how great those written words can make you feel.

And now those letters were the only thing Newkirk had left from Jout. Ever since the Gestapo took his boyfriend away, Newkirk was a nervous wreckage and constantly felt his heart beating with sonic speed in his ears. His throat also felt constricted the whole time and his body was shaking. Newkirk hoped with all his heart that Jout would return to him safely and in one piece, but there was always the anguish that his boyfriend would die at Gestapo headquarters and that he would never see him again.

Newkirk took a deep breath and closed his eyes as he tried to blink back the arising tears. He wished away the few tears that managed to run down his cheeks and then he took one of the latest letters out of the box, his hands shaking like mad.

 _My handsome flyer,_

 _There is so much I want to tell you, but I don't find the right words to do so. My love for you is much deeper, much more sincere than anything I have ever felt for another person. And right now, I would like to tell you how much I love you, however, there are not enough words in this universe to do so. I'm sure that no one ever felt so much for another person than I feel for you. When I look at you, I see my best friend, my lover, my soul mate, my one true love, my future in those green eyes of yours that shine more brightly than green emeralds in the midday sun. And I can only hope that you will never get tired of directing those emeralds at me, or else there will be no sunshine for me anymore._

 _Even though a gruesome and horrific event brought us together, I thank God every morning for giving me you, and with that showing me a light in my dark mind. Peter darling, you are my saviour, my knight in shining armour. You are the one who gave me my brother back and you are the first person with whom I talked about my childhood. And without you taking a chance on that lonely night in my brother's office, I would have never opened up to you all and would have never found happiness again._

 _My heart is aching every night when we go to sleep in different bunks. It cannot take being separated from you; not even when it's only about one foot. And though I can hear you breathing and know that you are sleeping right next to me, I still feel not save not being in your protective arms. Only your tight embrace makes my fear and self-doubts go away. You are the source of my self-confidence and happiness, and I know that even if the world around me fell apart, I can turn to you because you would never desert me._

 _Please know that whatever happens to me in this crazy war, my heart will forever belong to you because you have stolen it from me with no chance of getting it back. You are the love of my life, my fountain of sunshine and laughing, and my castle of safety._

 _Forever yours, Joshua_

Now Newkirk was not able to hold back his tears anymore. He put his head in his hands and cried upon reading those sweet words from his boyfriend, who was robbed away from him and had to endure God knows what at the hands of the Gestapo. And he had no way of helping him, no way of wrapping his arms around the young American and protect him from the harm. Oh, how Newkirk wished this was all just some gruesome nightmare he would awake from soon.


	8. Chapter 8

Jout was brutally yanked out of his unconsciousness, awakened by the sudden coldness splashing in his face and on his body. It was so cold that it took his breath away for a moment, before he gasped for air a few seconds later. As Jout slowly opened his eyes, he tried to move but noticed that his arms and legs were chained to the chair he sat on. Suddenly, there was another wave of cold liquid pouring on him that got from him the same reaction as the other one; first not able to breathe and then gasping for breath.

"See who decided to wake up," Jout heard Fuhrmann saying. " _Guten Abend_ [Good Evening], Sleeping Beauty!"

Jout focused his gaze on the man in front of him and saw Fuhrmann leaning against the wall again and this time Fritz standing next to him, a bucket in his hand and many others on the floor. He wondered for a short moment where Hans was, but this question was answered when he saw him bringing another two buckets full of probably ice-cold water into the cell.

"Getting ice-cold water thrown into your face makes you do that," Jout answered bitterly. He detested the feeling of soaking wet clothes clinging to his body.

Fuhrmann rubbed the fingernails of his left hand across his uniform coat and looked at them. "Yeah, well, sorry for that. But you were sleeping for five hours now and I wanted to continue our little talk."

Jout snorted. "Which part. You asking ridiculous questions or your sidekick beating me to a pulp" The reward for this defiant answer was another bucket of water poured into his face.

While Jout breathed laboriously and started to tremble from the cold of the water combined with the winter cold in the cell, Fuhrmann sat down on the stool that stood next to him at the wall. His fire-red hair was gleaming in the yellow-white light of the light bulb hanging over Jout's head, making him look like the devil himself. "Depends on you which part we repeat. This time, I will ask you different questions. If you give me an acceptable answer, nothing happens. But if you decide to be stubborn, you will be rewarded with a bucket of ice-cold water after every question. Understood?"

Jout glanced at Fritz who stood right next to Fuhrmann and gave him a devilish smile, just like Hans before. Yup, Fuhrmann had found the right guys for the job. He glanced back at Fuhrmann and gave him a small nod, not wanting to get another load of cold water thrown at him just yet.

"Good," Fuhrman said, a broad smile crossing his face as he thought that he had succeeded in breaking his prisoner's will. "Is Colonel Robert E. Hogan, United States Army Air Force, serial number 0876707, the current Senior POW in Luft-Stalag 13?"

Jout looked at Fuhrmann, his face showing complete confusion. He was sure Fuhrmann would ask him again about Papa Bear, but he had not expected a question he could answer without giving anyone away. He quickly answered, "Yes," before Fritz had the chance to use the bucket in his hands.

"And he is a prisoner of war for almost three years now?"

"Yes."

"Is Colonel Hogan an underground agent named Papa Bear?"

"No. He is simply a POW waiting for Germany to lose the war."

Jout was quickly covered by the cold liquid again, which worsened his shaking profoundly. He could feel the water dripping down from his nose and chin, and he shook his head to get rid of the dripping water.

"Is it true that you are a POW since 1943?"

"Yes."

"Are you taking party in any kind of sabotage or resistance activity since you are held captive in Luft-Stalag 13?"

"No. I'm only a prisoner of war waiting for the inevitable downfall of Germany so that I can go back home."

Another bucket of freezing cold water was poured over him, which now had not the breath-taking effect on him anymore like in the beginning. Only the tremble in every limb showed his captors his discomfort.

"Are any of Colonel Hogan's men, Sergeant Richard Baker and Sergeant Andrew John Carter of the United States Army Air Force, Corporal Louis LeBeau of the French Air Army, and Corporal Peter Frederick Newkirk of the Royal Air Force part of the underground?"

"No."

Yet again, Fritz threw a bucket full of cold water on Jout. But it seemed like Fuhrmann had learned that Jout would not betray his brother and friends just because he was freezing. So he thought of something else. Something much more painful. Without saying a word, he swiftly stood up from his stool and pushed it away from the wall.

Then Fuhrmann walked in front of Jout again and ordered, "Neumann, put the bucket down. Thelig, come here. Help our friend here to stand up."

Soaking wet, Jout watched how Fritz and Hans came closer, and while Fritz removed his ankle-chains, Hans removed the wrist-chains. He pulled Jout forcefully up, making the American hiss and gasped for breath as the pain from his broken ribs shot through his body. When he stood, Hans chained Jout's wrists on his back, hurting the already swollen wrists yet again.

As Fuhrmann stood before the pain-squirming Jout, he gave him a sardonic grin. "Oh, my! Are we hurting your bruised ribs? I'm sorry for that," he said, his faked concern obvious. Fuhrmann moved a little to the side and then barked in German, " _Hochheben_!" ["Lift him up!"]

Before Jout could even register what Fuhrmann had ordered, he was already lifted into the air and his arms were yanked up in a painful manner. Jout bid his lips to not scream out in pain because of the unusual angle of his arms and the pressure from Fritz and Hans on his ribs. He closed his eyes and took deep breaths, trying to breathe his pain away.

"You see, Lieutenant," Fuhrmann began. "I'm not satisfied with your answers. And since the painless method doesn't seem to work, we go back to the regular methods. The handcuff on your wrists has been hooked into the hook on the wall. The only thing standing in between you hanging from the wall are Thelig and Neumann, and they will leave if you don't give me a satisfying answer to my next question. So, who is Papa Bear?"

Through pain-shut eyes, Jout was able to make out Fuhrmann's diabolical smile. Jout knew what was about to happen; knew that an immense amount of pain lay ahead of him. He only hoped he would be quickly overwhelmed by the intense pain so that Fuhrmann could not delight in seeing him in pain.

Jout gritted his teeth and said, "Hogan, Joshua Patrick, First Lieutenant –"

Suddenly, he could feel the hands of the German guards leave his body and he feel down to the ground. When the handcuffs on the hook promptly stopped his fall, he could hear a cracking sound; right before a tremendous twitch from his shoulders made him forget everything around him. The shooting pain was only intensified by Jout's own body weight, and he started to cry out.

"I gave you a chance, Lieutenant. But you decided to play the stubborn toddler. _Tja, wer nicht hören will, muss fühlen_ ," Fuhrmann said. ["Oh well, he that will not hear must feel"]

Jout bid his lips to prevent himself from crying out any further. Fuhrmann had already revelled enough in seeing the result of his torturing methods. As he struggled to get the handcuffs of the hook by swinging back and forth, Jout could taste an iron flavour in his mouth; blood from biting his lips. But his body was already maltreated too badly with the broken ribs and the exhaustion from the ice-cold water, so he failed in getting himself off from the hook. Beside the massive pain that was only intensified by his attempt to get off the hook, Jout was beginning to feel dizzy and his movements slowed down. He had problems at taking his surroundings in and his eyelids began to weigh tons. At last, the loving unconsciousness was taking him in its refuge.

* * *

Newkirk sat in the sewing room and mended the uniforms they had. He had re-buried the metal box with Jout's love letter hours ago when he had heard Baker at the radio, not wanting anyone to see the letters or him crying. Now he was checking and when needed repairing their clothes as some kind of distraction. But it was difficult for him considering his shaky hands that he could not get to stop. He just succeeded in threading a needle when he heard a cough and feet scraping over the floor. Newkirk looked up from the needle in his hands and saw Carter standing in the doorway, shyly scratching the back of his neck.

"Hey, buddy!" Carter said in his usual cheerful voice. "Are you busy?"

"Can't ya see 'at I'm mendin' the uniforms?" Newkirk raged, immediately regretting his annoyed tone. He drove with his hands over his face and added, "M'sorry, Carter. 'aven't slept so much in the night."

"That's alright, Peter. I'm used to you being annoyed by me," Carter declared, his voice not the slightest angry, but rather a matter-of-fact tone. He walked into the sewing room and sat down on the stool across from the table in the middle. "Are you interested in playing cards with LeBeau and me? Maybe Baker wants to join too!"

Newkirk put down the needle and took a cigarette from the pack that lay on the table. "Nah! I still 'ave a lot to do with the clothes. Another time."

"But you've been down here the whole day! I'm sure it won't hurt to take a break. You can continue tomorrow," Carter interjected.

"I'm simply not interested –"

"You know, it won't do any good if you hide down here. We are all worried, Peter. You don't have to shut us out"

Perplexed at the younger man's words, Newkirk took the cigarette out of his mouth and stared at Carter. "I beg yer pardon?" he hissed.

Carter nervously played with his gloves. "The whole barracks is worried for Jout, and we are all hoping that he will come back soon. So we know how you feel. And we are worried for you as well. You have not slept a wink in the night, your hair is not combed, and you have not shaved. And now you spend the whole day down here, hiding in your fear. Trust me, you will feel better after a few rounds of gin"

For a few moments, Newkirk did not answer. He was too stunned by Carter's words, yet at the same time totally upset. He stubbed his cigarette out and continued staring at the American, his glance shooting daggers. "Ya guys know 'ow I feel? Is that so? I didn't know 'at Mary-Jane was also 'eld captive by the Gestapo. Tell me, 'ow does it feel to know 'at the love of yer life is currently tortured and ya 'ave no bleedin' way to 'elp?" Carter wanted to say something, but Newkirk raised his hand, stopping the interjection. "And 'ow the 'ell should I feel any better after playin' some stupid rounds of cards? Josh will still be tortured by the Gestapo and we can't do anythin' about it. So please, just go away and leave me alone!" Newkirk yelled the last part as he fought back the upcoming tears.

"But Peter –"

"Go!"

Carter looked at his friend and saw the trembling in the Brit's hands. He knew he could not change Newkirk's mind and so he scuffled away, giving his friend the wanted space.

At the same time, Hogan entered the main room of the barracks and was greeted by sad faces. LeBeau looked up from the stove upon hearing the door open and saw the defeated look in his CO'S eyes.

"No luck with Klink?"

Hogan shook his head. "He is too afraid of Fuhrmann. But I will try it again in the morning. I won't sit around and do nothing" He looked around the room, noticing that Newkirk was still nowhere to be seen. "Is Newkirk still down in the tunnel?"

LeBeau nodded. "Carter went down to talk with him. I told him that Pierre just wants to have some time alone, but you know how André is. If he sees his friend in pain, he wants to help him and you can't prevent him from doings so."

"Yeah, I know," Hogan said as he took off his crush cap. "Any news from Albert?"

"Baker said he talked to him one hour ago. Nothing has changed."

Hogan's facial expression saddened while he slightly shook his head. "I'm in my office if someone looks for me."

LeBeau watched how Hogan slowly walked into his office, shoulders sagged and looking down to the ground. In that moment, his heart broke for his commanding officer and everyone in the barracks felt the same upon seeing a defeated Hogan; something that they have never seen before.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: I'm not a doctor, so I'm not sure if everything that I stated in this chapter is right. But remember, this is a fanfiction, which means not everything has to be 100% right.**

* * *

When Jout woke up, he found himself in his small concrete cell once again. He was lying in the middle of the room, face down to earth. As he tried to move his arms to sit up, he noticed that he could barely move them and only while in extreme pain. Jout stopped what he was doing and rolled on his back, closing his eyes again because of the pain. This was bad; both his shoulders were dislocated. He had spent a lot of time with Wilson the last year because the medic needed some hands to help him and during that time he learned to identify a lot of injuries. He also knew that his shoulders needed to be reset or else the movement of his arms could be forever restricted. If something like that happened in the camp, Wilson would usually do it since another person needed to reset a shoulder while Jout held the patient down. But now he was all alone. Jout thought about waiting for Emil to let him do this, but since the light in the cell was burning, it was at least six o'clock in the morning. This meant his shoulders were already dislocated for about ten hours, which only gave him two hours for resetting his shoulders without risking permanent damage.

Jout decided he could not wait any longer and hoping that Emil might return. So he sat up, moved forward on his knees, and hauled himself up. When he had managed to stand up, he noticed that his clothes were not wet anymore. He only hoped he would not develop a cold or worse, pneumonia, with the clothes drying on his body in the cold cell. However, that was currently not the topic of his attention; he needed to figure out how to reset his shoulders on his own. The main problem was that both his shoulders were dislocated, which meant he could not use one arm to reset the other. Though Jout knew that there was nothing in the cell to help him, he still looked around the room in hopes of maybe finding something that would help him after all. But the only things he saw was the cot and four concrete walls as well as the iron door. In that moment, Jout remembered what Wilson had once told him. _"Always reset the shoulder contrary to the direction the upper arm bone left the socket."_ Since Jout could not move his arms to check in which direction the shoulders were dislocated, he moved his cheek down to his shoulders and checked. He felt the upper arm bone looking out slightly on the front, resulting in a bump. Bingo! At least he had some luck in here. His shoulders were dislocated in the forward direction, which meant he had to reset them in the backwards direction. And this also meant that he could try to reset them by using one of the concrete walls.

Jout went to the wall opposing the one with the cot and positioned himself close to it. He put his right leg a bit behind the left one, stabilizing his position. Then he took three deep breaths before he slammed his left shoulder the first time against the wall. The resulting ache shot through his body and made Jout bite his lip again as well as placing his forehead against the cold wall. He did not succeed in resetting his shoulder, so he took again three deep breaths and then slammed his left shoulder against the concrete wall once more. He heard a dull sound accompanied by the feeling of his shoulder sliding into the socket again. The pain in his left shoulder instantly became less and he was finally able to carefully move his arm. Jout used his newly acquired mobility to get his garrison cap from the cot and put it in his mouth to bite on it while he went back to the wall to reset his other shoulder. This time he placed his left leg behind his right one and slammed his right shoulder against the concrete wall too. Again, he felt a sharp pain that took his breath away for a moment, indicating the unsuccessful attempt at resetting his upper arm bone. After having breathed through the pain, Jout prepared himself for another try. This time he used all the strength he could muster as he slammed his right shoulder against the wall one more time. He again heard the dull sound and felt his shoulder sliding into the socket; however, he did not feel a release of pain. Quite the contrary, because the pain he felt in his right shoulder was much worse than anything he had endured in the last few days. Jout quickly stumbled to the cot and fell on it, holding his right arm close to his body. He tried once more what he had often done during his stay with the Gestapo; closing his eyes and breathing through the pain.

Minutes of breathing went by without any easing, and every slight movement of his right arm ended in tremendous pain. Then Jout heard how the iron door was opened. His heart was starting to beat faster, and he feared that Fritz and Hans came to bring him to another meeting with Fuhrmann. The heavy door was opened, and next Emil stepped into the small cell, medicine bag in his right hand. He waited for the door to be closed again before hurrying to Jout upon seeing his pain-twisted face. "My duty only started now. What happened?"

"Long story short: Fuhrmann dislocated my shoulders and I tried to reset them on my own. With the left shoulder everything went fine, but something went wrong with the other one," Jout answered, tilting his head down to his arm.

"Why did you try to reset your shoulders on your own?" Emil asked while he helped Jout of his jacket and shirt. "You should have waited for me."

Jout drew in his breath as the jacket and shirt left his shoulder. At last he replied, "I didn't know when you'll be back, and I figured I hadn't much time left for resetting them."

Emil examined Jout's right shoulder, which was heavenly swollen and covered in blue bruises. When he touched the collarbone, a crunch was heard and Jout groaned in pain. "Well, with your attempt to reset your shoulder, you managed to break your collarbone."

"Oh, great!" groaned Jout. "As if the injuries the Gestapo does to me are not enough, I have to injure myself."

"I will bandage your shoulder really tight and give you painkillers. Just try to move your right arm as little as possible. I can't do much more right now," Emil said.

He gave Jout some painkillers to swallow and then he took a bandage from his bag. While he bandaged the shoulder, trying to fix the broken bone in place as best as possible, Jout watched the German soldier's every move. He really trusted the young man in front of him now, but there were so many questions racing through his mind concerning Emil and his membership in the Gestapo.

"Emil, why are you part of the Gestapo when you don't want them to retrieve any information from me?" Jout asked at last.

Emil shortly stopped bandaging Jout's shoulder, but quickly turned back to his task. "Well, I have an infant daughter and wife to think of."

"What do you mean?"

"You make more money if you're part of the Gestapo. And by wearing this damned uniform, I make sure that I don't have to fight in Russia or the Western front," Emil explained while he finished the bandage around Jout's shoulder.

Jout felt anger rising in him. "So just for some extra bucks you are part of a criminal organisation that tortures people? How do you sleep at night?"

"Do you think I like being part of the Gestapo?" Emil yelled. Then he reminded himself of the officers standing outside the cell and lowered his voice again. "I'm only doing this for my daughter." He grabbed into his shirt pocket and retrieved a picture of a baby girl with blonde hair and showed it to Jout. "Her name is Emma. She was born two months ago in August. I only want her to be save and to grow up with a father who is still alive. And I want to protect her from the Nazis."

Jout looked at the picture of Emil's daughter, seeing the broad smile upon Emil's face on it as he held his baby daughter. It reminded him of the pictures of his own son and how much he wished to return to Tommy so that he had his father back. Jout looked back up at Emil and gave him the picture back, now feeling even closer to him. "You want to protect her from the Nazis by joining a Nazi organisation? That doesn't make any sense."

"I want only the best for Emma. So I want her to grow up in another country; a country free from war. That's why I'm part of the Gestapo. I save the extra money so that eventually, I can flee with her and my wife to Switzerland." Emil grabbed Jout's undershirt and started helping him with getting redressed. "I'm not a Nazi. I think Hitler is a madman who needs to be stopped. But there are so many Germans who believe what he says and who would rather have that the whole nation goes down than living next to Jews. I'm only a single person. I can't change anything. That's why I want to flee so that my daughter does not have to live in a dictatorship." When Jout was dressed again, Emil rummaged once more in his back to find the bottle with the lucid liquid. "I'm giving you the sedative again. With your broken collarbone, every hour without another interrogation meeting is value in gold."

Emil helped Jout to lie down and a few seconds after he gave him the shot, Jout was back in the state of unconsciousness that he had visited so often since his stay with the Gestapo.

* * *

Shortly after breakfast, Hogan climbed down the ladder to the tunnel. Newkirk's appearance during morning roll call and breakfast had Hogan worried; the Brit looked like death itself with heavy eye rings and his face seemed sunken. But before he had the chance to talk with his second-in-command, Newkirk already disappeared in the tunnel again. So Hogan decided to simply pay a visit to the sewing section and talk with Newkirk about the troubling situation.

With brisk steps, Hogan followed tunnel three to the clothing room in which he suspected Newkirk to be. When he reached his destination, Hogan peaked around the corner and saw how Newkirk was mending their clothes. Again. Though he knew how stubborn the Brit could be when it came to his feelings, he was determined to get him to talk. And he hoped Newkirk might be a bit more open to him since he was his boyfriend's brother, and with that somehow family.

"Hey, Newkirk! How are you doing?" asked Hogan as he walked into the small sewing room.

"Fine," Newkirk answered without looking up from the pants in his hands.

"I see you have mended almost every piece of clothing we possess. Why don't you make a break and lie down for a while? You look like you have not slept so much."

Newkirk forcefully stuck the needle in the seam of the pants, yanking the black thread through it. "Not necessary, gov'nor. I'm feelin' fine."

Hogan sighed and shook his head. "No, you're not." This comment got Newkirk averting his gaze from the piece of clothing in his hands, and Hogan made three big steps towards the stool by the table. "You're feeling as shitty as I do. And because you don't want to show the others your feelings, you hide down here."

"Talk for yerself, gov'nor. I'm simply takin' care of our uniforms."

Newkirk directed his glance back on the pants and stuck the needle into it once more, when Hogan grabbed the piece of clothing and pulled it away from him. The Brit wanted to argue, but he was cut off by Hogan's commanding voice. "Stop this game, Peter. You and I both know that you are only down here because you don't want the others to see you in pain. But you need to talk with someone about your feelings. It won't make you feel better if you bottle them up." His voice softened as he said, "Right now, I'm not speaking to you as your commanding officer. I'm talking to you as part of the family. And you can be sure that nothing you say will leave this room."

Newkirk was totally surprised by Hogan calling him part of the family. Of course he knew that Hogan had no problem with him dating his younger brother, but still, he was touched by his CO's remark. Without really wanting to, all his feelings and thoughts poured out of him and he opened up to Hogan. "I can't breathe out of fear for Josh. I 'ave the feelin' 'at I'm suffocatin' and 'avin' a 'eart attack at the same time. I can't sleep at night because images of 'im lyin' dead in some Gestapo cell are floodin' me mind." Newkirk lowered his glance and saw how his hands were shaking. "And the worst part is the feelin' of 'elplessness. I'm goin' stir-crazy not bein' able to do anythin' to 'elp Josh. And if I didn't take care of the clothin', I would simply sit around and wait for the message of 'is death. And 'at's somethin' I can't do. I need to distract meself." Upon realizing what he had just said to his commanding officer, Newkirk blushed and smiled sheepishly at him.

"Yeah, I feel exactly the same," Hogan admitted. "That's why I spent most of my time in my office working on some stupid papers for Klink. To distract myself from gruesome thoughts. But Peter, you can't lose hope. Everything is lost if you lose hope."

Newkirk gave Hogan a sad smile. "Well, gov'nor, right before 'e was taken away, Josh said to me, _"'ope for the best and prepare for the worst"_. But ya know, I don't want to prepare for the worst. I want 'im to come back to me."

"I want that too, Peter," Hogan said while standing up. "That's why I say to myself that everything will turn out fine. Because our mother always said to me, _"Optimism is the key to good outcomes"_."

Hogan walked back out, but before he left the sewing section, he turned around again and suggested, "Why don't you work on something else? I'm sure when Josh comes back he would appreciate a cosy blanket."

"I don't 'ave the right fabric for 'at."

"Don't worry. I'll go to Klink again and try to talk him into ordering Fuhrmann to bring Josh back. I don't think he will, but I'm sure I'll get him to buy us some bales of wool. What colour do you want?"

"Blue and yellow. 'at's Josh's favourite colours," Newkirk said. Hogan nodded and turned around to leave when Newkirk called, "Gov'nor, do ya really think Josh will come back?"

Hogan smiled sadly at him. "What's the alternative?" he simply stated and left the room.


	10. Chapter 10

As the sedative began to wear off, Jout slowly returned to consciousness. His exhausted mind needed some time to take in his surroundings; especially since he did not find the strength to open his eyes fully which meant he was barely able to see anything. With his sight blocked by his heavy eyelids, Jout's other senses came to a rising. He heard someone breathing loudly near him and another person shifting its weight from one foot to the other. From the direction the sounds came from he figured it must be Hans and Fritz. When he ever so slightly as to not raise attention to his waking up moved his feet and left hand, he noticed that they were chained to the chair he was sitting on. This meant he was back in the interrogation cell. Jout heard the cell door open and footsteps coming into the cell. He continued pretending to be asleep, hoping to postpone the next interrogation round for a few hours. But no such luck. The person who came in went over to him and put pressure on his broken collarbone, eliciting a painful cry from Jout.

"Ah, see who decided to wake up after all!" Fuhrmann exclaimed while he walked to his usual position in front of Jout, sitting down on the chair by the wall. "I see that our last meeting left you a bit injured."

Jout said nothing; only stared at Fuhrmann. It took him his complete mental strength to bear up against the blinding agony coming from his right collarbone. That he had not eaten or drunken anything for more than one day now was not helping his maltreated body; it only weakened him additionally.

"You know, the pain could stop immediately. You only need to tell us who the underground agent Papa Bear is, and I make sure that you will be admitted to a hospital. It's that easy," Fuhrmann explained. "Therefore, who is Papa Bear?"

Despite the terrible anguish he was in, Jout would never accept Fuhrmann's offer. "I already told you, I don't know any underground agent named Papa Bear. The only Papa Bear I know is a character in a children's story."

Fuhrmann shook his head and stood up. "My, my! Why do you always have to choose the painful way?" While he walked up to Jout, he retrieved a pistol from his coat pocket and let it hang from his index finger. Jout gulped, his eyes fixed upon the gun as Fuhrmann came closer. "You know, I'm getting quite frustrated by your uncooperative behaviour, my dear Lieutenant," he said, stalking around the chained Jout.

When he came around again and stood right next to Jout, he lunged out with his right hand and slammed the back of the pistol in Jout's face. There was a crushing sound heard as the gun touched Jout's nose and he fell backwards because of the force of the punch. Immediately, his nose started bleeding violently and another source of pain was added to his body. Jout began to feel dizzy; however, the ache from his nose was not as worse as the stinging ache in his shoulder. Especially since he fell on it because of the punch which only worsened the already tremendous pain coming from his shoulder. Fuhrmann snapped his fingers, ordering Fritz and Hans to tilt Jout up. When he was in an upright position again, the blood from his nose started running down over his mouth down to his chin, from there dropping down on his pants.

"You're a right mess, do you know that?" Fuhrmann laughed while he cleaned his gun with his handkerchief, adding red spots on the white tissue.

Jout spit the blood in his mouth out and grinned. "I'm still looking much better than you do."

"Oh, I see we have not lost our humour in here. That's good to see. However, I'm not quite sure if you will keep it up." Fuhrmann sat down on his chair again and twirled the revolver around his index finger. "You see, since the other methods of information retrieving have not worked on you, I have thought of something else. In this gun are six bullets which equals six questions. If you give me unsatisfying answers once again, I will shoot. On what I aim will be a surprise; maybe you, maybe the wall behind you. Who knows?"

Jout watched how Fuhrmann rose from his seat. His clouded mind needed a moment to register what Fuhrmann had said, but once it did his heart started to beat faster. He hoped that the major only wanted to scare him and therefore bluffed; however, the sardonic twinkle in Fuhrmann's eyes told him that the German was dead honest.

Fuhrmann came closer and stopped about three feet in front of him. He stretched his arm and aimed the pistol in his hand at Jout, who simply stared at Fuhrmann, determined to show that he was not intimidated by him. "First question: Are the prisoners in Luft-Stalag 13 involved in any underground activities?"

"No."

Fuhrmann pulled the trigger and shot over Jout's head, the bullet hitting the concrete wall behind him. The gunshot made Jout flinch, immediately regretting his movement because of his broken collarbone that send another wave of pain through his body.

"Next question: Does Colonel Klink know about the sabotage activities of his prisoners?"

Jout sighed. "There are no sabotage activities to know about."

Another shot, again right over Jout's head.

"Third question: Do you help downed flyers and escaped prisoners to return to London?"

"No."

Fuhrmann lowered his arm and pulled the trigger once more, this time shooting in the ground a few inches before Jout's left foot. Jout flinched again and he heard his heart beating in his ears.

"Fourth question: Do you have radio connection to London?"

"No."

Once again, a shot was heard, the bullet hitting the ground a few inches left to Jout's right foot.

"Next question: How come that no prisoner was ever able to escape from Stalag 13?"

"Colonel Klink is too good of a camp commandant. He's far too brilliant for us."

The bullet hit the ground underneath Jout's chair.

"Last question: Is Colonel Robert Hogan an underground agent named Papa Bear?"

Jout spit again to get rid of the blood that was running over his mouth. Then he answered, "I don't know how often I have to repeat it. My brother is an ordinary POW who only waits for the liberation and nothing more."

Fuhrmann began to grin and said, "Alright, you asked for it."

He pulled the trigger and this time, the bullet hit Jout's left knee, causing Jout to grit his teeth and clench his fists to prevent a painful cry. His knee was sending shock waves of caustic pain through his body that made him forget about the anguish in his right shoulder. Jout panted with rage while Fritz and Hans unchained him.

"Maybe you should start thinking about where your loyalty lies," Fuhrmann announced. "Your friends have not come to rescue you. I offer you a way out."

Fuhrmann left the cell and Fritz and Hans pulled Jout up from the chair. As soon as Jout put pressure on his left leg, the pain was unbearable and he fell forward. The tight grip of the Gestapo soldiers prevented that he crashed to the ground, and since he could not really walk, they simply dragged him along the corridors to his cell. All the while, Jout tried his best to breathe through the burning pain that was radiating from both his knee and shoulder. When they reached his cell, Fritz opened the door and Hans threw him in the cell like a bag of potatoes. They closed the door and Jout continued to lay on the ground; the pain was paralyzing him, making it hard for him to stay awake. But he had no interest in passing out again, and so he fought against the fog that was clouding his mind. He was still fighting his battle for consciousness when the door opened again several minutes later. Someone entered it and after the door was closed once again, the person ran towards Jout.

"Joshua, where does it hurt?" Jout heard Emil asking.

"I think he broke my nose," Jout managed to say. "And he shot me in the knee."

Emil turned Jout gently on his back. "And the cut on your forehead re-opened." He took a cotton ball from his bag and pressed it on the wound, then taking Jout's hand and pressing it on the cotton ball. "You know the drill. Apply pressure to stop the bleeding." After he took care of the cut, Emil crouched to Jout's left knee. He saw a bullet hole in the pants' fabric, its brown colour coloured in red. Emil took a scissor from his bag and said, "I know that as a POW you probably don't posses so many trousers, but I need to cut it to treat you. I'm sorry for that."

A half-awake Jout chuckled. "No need to worry. My best friend in camp is a tailor. He knows how to repair it in case I come back." Even though he trusted Emil with his life, Jout thought it was better to not mention that he was gay. He did not want to risk that the only person who helped him turned his back on him.

Emil cut the leg of the pants up to a few inches above the knee so that he could examine it. He was greeted by torn skin where the bullet entered the knee and much blood around the wound as well as running down Jout's calf. When he felt the back of the knee he couldn't find an exit wound, which meant the bullet was still inside Jout's knee.

"I have to feel for the bullet," Emil announced. "This will probably hurt a lot, but I need to find out where in your knee it is."

With a breathy voice, Jout said, "Al…alright." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then grabbed his garrison cap that lay next to his head and put it in his mouth to bite on it, just like he did when he reset his shoulders.

"I will first clean the wound," Emil said as he took a small bottle of alcohol from his bag.

He opened the bottle and poured the content over his hands and Jout's knee. His knee started to feel like it was burning, and Jout bit tightly on his cap, but Emil could still hear painful moans. He had to hold Jout's knee firmly in place because the injured American squirmed with pain. "I'm so, so sorry," Emil said as he put his index and middle finger of his right hand into the bullet wound. Under Jout's pain-filled yet muffled screams, Emil searched for the bullet while also feeling the bones to get a better picture of the damage the bullet had done. All the while, Jout pressed his thumbnail in his hand as he tried to distract his mind from the searing pain that Emil produced.

"The bullet smashed your knee," Emil announced after what seemed like an eternity, removing his hand from the wound.

"Aren't you…going to…remove…the bullet?" Jout asked between breaths when he saw Emil cleaning his hands.

Emil took a bandage from his bag and started to wrap it around the knee. "Rather not. Right now, the bullet is stuck right in the kneecap joint and it has pierced the anterior cruciate ligament. If I remove it now without repairing it at the same time, I will do more damage than good. And I can't repair it because I'm not a surgeon. So I will simply wrap it tight and when you get back to your camp, I'm sure Colonel Klink will organise a hospital stay for you."

Jout snorted. "You're really optimistic if you think I get out of here alive."

"Well, what else should I think? That you die in here? This thinking does not help the situation," Emil pointed out as he put a safety pin in the bandage to fix it.

"You remind me of my brother," Jout said with a small smile. "He's the optimistic one of us; got it from our mother. No matter what happens, he will stay positive and find a light at the end of the tunnel."

Emil moved to Jout's head to carefully examine his nose. "Then I would suggest you quickly adopt this optimism from your brother. In the end it all comes down to you; you're the one who decides whether to fight or to give up," Emil explained while he touched Jout's nose that was already swollen badly, and he could spot a deformed nasal bone. In return, Jout flinched away from Emil's touch and moaned in pain. "Yup, your nasal bone is broken, but there's nothing much I can do. I can only give you an ice-pack to cool your nose."

Emil helped Jout to sit up and pushed him to the nearby wall so he could lean against it and gave Jout the ice-pack, who took it gratefully and placed it on his nose. "I forgot to thank you for helping me. I don't know what I would do without you in here."

"No need to thank me," Emil waved off. "I simply do what every decent person would do."

"Well, there aren't many of you in this war," Jout said and smiled sadly.

Then the door was opened again and Fritz and Hans entered the cell.

"Treatment time is over," Fritz announced. "Major Fuhrmann wants to talk to him."

Emil stood up and immediately uttered his protest. "He is in no condition to be interrogated again. Besides, has Major Fuhrmann not talked to him about ten minutes ago?"

"Who cares in what condition he is? I only know that Major Fuhrmann ordered to get the prisoner back to interrogation. And that's what we will do," Fritz declared and pushed Emil aside.

He and Hans went over to Jout and pulled him up. They handcuffed him and dragged him out of the cell again.

While Hans brought Jout of the cell, Fritz stayed behind. He threw the ice-pack in front of Emil's feet and said, "If I were you, I would be careful where your alliances lie. You know what we do with traitors to the Fatherland." Then he swiftly left the cell to catch up with Hans, leaving a worried Emil behind.


	11. Chapter 11

Newkirk sat on top of his bunk and cut out squares from the blue and yellow woven fabric he got from Klink no less than ten minutes ago. He knew that Hogan's suggestion was only a mean to get him out of the tunnel, having a distraction he could do in the barracks without risking exposure to their operation. But whatever the reason, Newkirk was glad for this task. It somehow soothed his aching heart to prepare something for Jout's return; it gave him hope that his dearest wish would become reality. However, he still refused to really interact with the other guys in the barracks. That's why he climbed up in his bunk with his sewing kit as soon as he received the fabric from Klink; to put some distance between him and the others. He knew that they were worried too. Knew it way before Carter came to talk with him. But he did not want to be pitied by the others. He hated talking about his negative feelings to his mates, whether it was fear or sadness. For him, those feelings were a sign of weakness, and his childhood had formed him into a person that could not allow himself to be seen weak. He had to be strong for his sister, had to protect her from their abusive father by always making her smile and never let her see his fear. After their father's death, Newkirk was the man of the household who had to provide for his family. And living in Stepney meant he could not be seen as weak by the other people; it was your death warrant if others thought they could do anything with you without you defending yourself.

The only person he trusted enough to talk about his fears was robbed from him now. Jout had shown him that it was no sign of weakness when he allowed those negative feelings to come to the surface. But since he was held captive by the Gestapo, Newkirk fell back into his old patterns and completely stifled those feelings, refusing to talk to someone. Only Hogan had managed to get him to express his fears, and Newkirk did not understand how his CO had managed that. Probably the lack of sleep.

As he cautiously cut out the squares from the fabric, Newkirk felt the stares of his best mates from the table upon him; something that made him feel uneasy. He did not like to be watched by others unless he deliberately drew attention to himself. For example when he told the prisoners his made-up stories or when he showed them one of his magic tricks. But when his feelings of fear got the better of him, he only wanted his peace and quiet. So Newkirk looked up and barked, "Can I 'elp ya with somethin' or why do ya blokes stare at me?"

Upon Newkirk's aggravated tone, Carter instantly looked down at the cards in his hands and nervously re-arranged them. LeBeau and Baker continued looking at him and LeBeau asked, "We only wondered where you got the fabrics from. And what you are doing with them."

"I got them from Klink," Newkirk answered in a much calmer voice. "I'm tailorin' a blanket for Josh."

"I'm sure he will appreciate it when he comes back," LeBeau said, of course not knowing in which condition Jout might return. But the Frenchman was immensely glad that Newkirk left his hiding place because of which he kept his doubts to himself.

"It was the gov'nor's idea." Newkirk averted his gaze from his friends and directed it back to the blue woven fabric in his hands, continuing the cutting.

"By the way, where is Colonel Hogan?" Baker asked.

As Newkirk was finished cutting out the first role of blue fabric, he turned his attention to one of the roles of yellow fabric. "'e is talkin' to Klink about Josh's release."

Right after those words had left Newkirk's mouth, the barracks' door was opened and Hogan entered the main room, his face bearing an angry expression. It seemed that with every unsuccessful visit he payed Klink, Hogan's hair turned a bit greyer and more wrinkles were added to his face.

"Klink is such a coward!" Hogan exclaimed. He went over to the stove and poured himself a cup of coffee; one of many in the last two days.

"Has he refused again to order Jout's release?" questioned Baker.

Hogan merely nodded. With the cup of coffee in his hand, he sat down on one of the stools by the table. "He's simply too afraid of Fuhrmann."

"But Fuhrmann is only a major and Klink's a colonel!" Carter interjected, having discarded his cards on the table.

"Yeah, but Fuhrmann is a major of the Gestapo," Hogan pointed out. "That's what he's afraid of. Klink told me I should remain calm and that he is sure that Fuhrmann will return Josh soon."

Having heard enough of Klink's cowardice, Newkirk jumped down from his bunk. "Then we 'ave to get Josh out of there," he declared. "We can't continue sittin' 'ere and do nothin'!"

"Newkirk, we already talked about this. Trying to free Josh would put us all at risk. And my duty as a Senior POW is to keep my men safe."

"Josh is one of your men too!" Newkirk yelled. "And if ya won't free 'im, I will."

Newkirk began to walk to the hidden tunnel entrance. Hogan jumped up from his stool and quickly placed himself between the bunk bed and the Brit. "No, you won't! I'm your CO and I order you to go back to tailoring that blanket. Nothing more, nothing less."

"But we 'ave to do somethin'!" Newkirk exclaimed.

He tried shoving Hogan out of the way, but the American officer held his position. He in return placed his hands on Newkirk's shoulders, looking him directly in the eyes to calm him down. "Correction: I have to something. And I'm working on it."

Newkirk took a few steps backwards and bashed against the bunk frame of his and Carter's bunkbed. "And it's workin' out brilliantly! Ya try to persuade Klink into demandin' Josh's return for two days now and ya 'ave achieved nothin'. Nothin'! I mean, why don't ya just demand to speak with someone from the Red Cross? After all, Josh is protected by the Geneva Convention."

The other guys in the barracks were amazed at how Newkirk spoke to Hogan. They were used to him not caring about Hogan's rank as an officer, but they had never witnessed Newkirk showing this amount of outright disrespect. However, they were even more amazed at Hogan's reaction.

"I know that, Peter," Hogan answered in a soft voice. "I already tried to get in contact with the Red Cross, but Klink is just too scared. He won't allow it. Though it is my right to speak with the Red Cross, it all depends on Klink. And trying to free Josh is just too risky. Not with Fuhrmann only waiting for us to try entering Gestapo HQ. And don't forget: Josh wanted it this way. He pleaded to not get rescued. Right now, he's probably enduring horrible things, always thinking he is protecting us." Hogan moved closer to Newkirk and placed again a hand on his shoulder. "Protecting you. And don't you think it would be much worse if we try to free him, get captured, and he realizes that everything he had endured to protect us was for nothing?"

In any other situation, Hogan would have put Newkirk in his place. But not now. Not when he looked in the eyes of the man he considered his brother-in-law and saw them reflecting hurt and fear at him. Not when he knew that the only reason for Newkirk's disrespectful behaviour was the deep love for his younger brother.

"I promise you, I will get Josh out of there. I don't know how yet, but he will return to us," Hogan said, smiling softly at him. "And now, climb up in your bunk again and tailor this blanket. That's an order, Corporal."

Newkirk returned Hogan's smile, realizing how stupid his idea of a single-head-on-attack was. He gave him a sloppy salute and climbed back in his bunk, returning to the fabric that was sprawled on it. Hogan walked back to the table, grabbing his coffee cup and then went into his office, thinking about a way to keep the promise he had made to his British corporal.

* * *

Not fifteen minutes after the last meeting, Jout sat in the interrogation cell again, chained to the chair in the middle of the room. His right shoulder and left knee were killing him; the persistent and violent pain almost too much for his weakened body to endure. But he would never give in to the agony he felt. He would keep his boyfriend, brother, and friends safe; no matter the costs, no matter what the Gestapo did to him. There was simply too much at stake. So Jout gritted his teeth and breathed though the pain while he prepared himself for whatever Fuhrmann had thought of to get him to talk.

He heard Fritz and Hans smashing their feet together, indicating Fuhrmann's arrival. A few seconds later, the red-haired major appeared in front of him; this time he leant against the wall rather than sitting on the chair next to him. "I hope _Leutnant_ Becker has patched you up well. I'm sorry for the short treatment time, but you are always out cold after he has examined you. And I'm a very impatient man."

"He's treating me better than you do," Jout retorted. "And I have a suggestion to make. Why don't you just stop interrogating me and bring me back to Stalag 13? I have answered all your questions and you only repeat yourself lately."

Fuhrmann began to laugh. "You would like that, wouldn't you? Sorry, no can do. First I need a confession from you."

"But I have nothing to confess!" Jout said annoyed. "I have already told you. I'm only a POW in an ordinary POW camp, waiting to get liberated by the Allied forces. And therefore, I'm protected by the Geneva Convention. I'm interested to see how your superiors react when the Red Crosses visits them."

As an answer, Fuhrmann gave Jout a diabolical grin. "My dear Lieutenant, in here, the Geneva Convention does not exist. Plus, for the Red Cross to get informed, Colonel Klink needs to allow your brother contact with them. And trust me, he won't allow it." He crossed his arms in front of his chest and said, "But enough of that. I have much planned for you, and it involves **you** answering **my** questions."

Jout sighed and closed his eyes. "What do you want to know?"

"Not so fast, Lieutenant. First I want to explain myself." Fuhrmann pulled out a knife from his coat pocket and began to polish it by rubbing the blade across his black coat. Jout's glance immediately focused on the knife, praying that whatever Fuhrmann intended to do with it would end quickly. "You see, nothing I thought of until now has worked on you. Neither beating you up, nor showering you with ice-cold water, nor hanging you up on a hook. For heaven's sake, not even shooting you has made you talk! So I thought about what all these methods had in common. And then light dawned on me. Neither of those methods threatened something important to your or your immediate life. I'm sure you figured out that I would not shoot you to death. Well, not now. And I'm also certain that your knee is not very important to you. That's why I thought of something else."

Still watching the knife closely, Jout asked, "And what have you thought of?"

Fuhrmann nodded at Fritz, who swiftly walked over to them and grabbed Jout's left lower arm and fingers, with that pressing his hand on the chair's wooden arm. Jout's struggle to free his hand was of no luck since the chain around his wrist prevented him to get his hand loose.

"I have not forgotten your piano playing skills, Lieutenant. I have to say, I enjoyed your musical interlude very much. And you know what else I remember? How much fun you had playing the piano," Fuhrmann explained while he slowly walked around Jout, running the knife's blade across the American's throat. He did not press hard enough to scratch the skin, but it still made Jout flinch as the cold metal touched his skin. Then he put the knife point on his prisoner's left hand that was held in place by Fritz, letting the knife twirl between the hand and his own index finger. "I have realized that I won't achieve anything if I simply hurt you. You're too stubborn for that. But now, if you won't answer my question adequately, I will hurt your hand and with that end your piano playing times once and for all."

Jout averted his gaze from Fuhrmann, who stood to his left, and directed it at Hans, who stood in front of him and slightly leant forward to hold down his hand. Then he looked back at Fuhrmann, watching how the major removed the knife with a sardonic smirk on his face.

"Therefore, think about my next question carefully. It could mean the difference between a working and a useless hand," Fuhrmann said. "Are the prisoners of Stalag 13, most prominently Colonel Robert Hogan, Sergeant Andrew Carter, Sergeant Richard Baker, Corporal Louis LeBeau, Corporal Peter Newkirk, and yourself involved in any kind of sabotage or spying activities aimed to obstruct the German war effort?"

Jout eyed Fuhrmann closely, wondering how the Gestapo major was able to mention exactly those who are more involved in the operation. And not for the first time he saw himself confronted with the names of his best friends and boyfriend. It seemed like Fuhrmann knew more about their operation than they had suspected. He felt Fritz tightening the grip around his arm and answered, "No, we are not. Like I have already mentioned multiple times, Stalag 13 is an ordinary POW camp with us prisoners waiting for the end of the war so that we can return home. Though we are happy about every setback the German military suffers, we are not responsible for your defeats."

Fuhrmann stopped playing with the knife and clutched it firmly in his right hand. In one swift motion, he slammed the knife with all his strength in Jout's palm. It was such a force that the knife pierced through Jout's hand and got stuck in the chair's wooden arm. Jout suppressed an anguished cry by biting his tongue and breathing heavily through his nose, with that hurting his broken nose. His heart made double jumps to cope with the ache emerging from his left hand.

Fuhrmann nodded at Fritz again, who let go of Jout's arms and returned to his spot by the door next to Hans. The red-haired man sauntered to his usual place by the wall in front of Jout, leaving the knife in Jout's palm. "So you chose the useless hand. What's your opinion on two useless hands?"

Despite the already intense amount of pain he was in, Jout kept his cool and calmly answered, "Since the only way to prevent you stabbing my right hand would be admitting to something I have not done, I choose two useless hands. And seeing that it's quite likely that I won't survive my time in here, I don't care about whether I have one or two useless hands. Makes no difference when I'm dead."

"Ah, have we already reached the point where you gave up on life?" Fuhrmann gloated. "Alright, I will leave your other hand alone. I think I have done enough to you for one day." He went over to Jout and pulled out the knife, sending another wave of searing pain through the American's body, who kept still and simply stared at him. Fuhrmann glanced at the blood on the knife's blade and then back at his prisoner, giving him a diabolical smile. "Or maybe not," he announced and quickly buried the knife in Jout's stomach.

Jout could no longer repress a pain-filled groan when the knife cut through his skin, and as Fuhrmann removed the knife, Jout's officer shirt instantly changed its colour around the stabbing wound from beige to red. Seconds after the attack, Jout's head began to feel dizzy and he passed out, his body no longer able to cope with the multiple sources of pain it had received during the last two days.

Fuhrmann cleaned the knife's blade with the same handkerchief he had cleaned his pistol earlier, adding more red spots on the white tissue. He put it back in his coat pocket and ordered, "Bring him back in his cell and fetch _Leutnant_ Becker for treatment." Fritz and Hans nodded, moving over to the unconscious Jout to free him from his chains. "Oh, and _Leutnant_ Neumann?" Fuhrmann said, with that turning Fritz's attention away from Jout. "Inform _Hauptmann_ Richter from the Gestapo in Dusseldorf that I want to put _Plan Gelb_ [Plan Yellow] into practise and need him to come to Hammelburg as soon as possible. He will know what to do."


	12. Chapter 12

A persistent tapping on his cheek took Jout out of his beloved darkness, accompanied by a worried sounding voice calling out, "Joshua, wake up! Come on, wake up! Don't you dare giving up on my watch!"

Jout's only response was a groan and nothing else. His eyelids felt even heavier than they did the last times he had awoken from unconsciousness, and therefore he only managed to blink, not opening them permanently.

"Thank God!" the voice exclaimed upon hearing him groan. The person the voice belonged to continued the tapping and said, "Now be good and open your eyes for me."

Jout fought against the tiredness that told him to keep his eyes shut and after what seemed like an eternity, he succeeded in opening his eyes. The first thing he saw was a pair of blue eyes he instantly recognized; they belonged to Emil.

As soon as he had opened his eyes, Emil gave him a broad smile. "You really had me worried, Joshua. I feared that your body might have given up when you haven't woken up in the morning."

Emil's face disappeared and Jout felt him open his officer shirt. Jout closed his eyes again and tried to remember what happened yesterday that might have caused his body to give up, but found out he could not remember a thing. As he brought up his left hand to rub his eyes, Jout noticed that a bandage was wrapped around his palm. He also noticed that he had difficulties breathing through his nose and that his knee was hurting beyond belief.

Jout looked down at his body to see Emil unwrapping a bandage from his stomach. With a soft voice Jout asked, "Emil…what…what happened to me?"

The blond man immediately stopped what he was doing and directed a worried glance at Jout. "Don't you remember?" Jout merely shook his head, fear rising in him. Emil crawled up to his head again and placed a comforting hand on his not-injured shoulder. "Yesterday was a pretty rough day. First Fuhrmann broke your nose and shot you in the knee, later he stabbed you in your hand and stomach. You passed out since it was simply too much for you to handle." He turned his attention back to Jout's stomach and mumbled, " _Verdammt_!" ["Damnit!"]

"Why are you cursing?" a still only half awake Jout asked. He had closed his eyes once again because he was just too exhausted to keep them open. Additionally, his blurred memory was coming back to him, but only in scraps which made his head hurt.

Emil grabbed a cloth from his bag and put it inside Jout's stomach. "When Fuhrmann stabbed you, he scratched the inferior vena cava. It's responsible for bringing the blood from your renal, testicular, and lumbar veins to your right atrium. This means that with every beat of your heart, blood streams through your damaged vena cava."

"That's doesn't sound good," Jout mumbled as he started another attempt to open his eyes, which resulted in constant blinking once again.

"You're right. The wound doesn't stop bleeding and I have neither the essential means nor the necessary experience to make it stop," Emil explained while he stuffed the cloth around the hole in Jout's vein. He looked back at Jout and saw that he had closed his eyes once more; therefore, Emil began to tap on the American's cheek again. "Hey, keep your eyes open! If you drift back to dreamland, I don't know whether you wake up again. Come on, talk to me!"

Jout groaned annoyingly and pushed Emil's hand away from his cheek. With a hoarse voice he asked, "What should I talk about? About how there is not one spot in my body that isn't hurting? Or that I don't know how much longer I can endure Fuhrmann's torture?"

"Maybe there is something more pleasant to get your mind off the pain?" As Emil gave him a soft smile, he spotted a blue-yellow bracelet on Jout's right wrist. "How about the bracelet you're wearing? Does it have a special meaning?"

Jout looked down at his wrist and started smiling, the first smile that found its way on his lips in the last two days. "My son made it for me." [1]

Emil raised an eyebrow and stopped wrapping another bandage around Jout's stomach area. "You have a son? What's his name?"

"Tommy. He will be seven years in March."

Emil's facial expression changed to total confusion. "Wait, as far as I can recall it, you are twenty-one years old. Wouldn't that mean you were fifteen when he was born?"

"You are correct with my age," Jout answered. "Tommy is my adoptive son, but it makes no difference in my feelings for him." Jout directed a grin at Emil and said, "You know, you could be the grown-up version of him. He has the same curly blond hair and crystal blue eyes than you do. And if he grows up to be the kind of person you are, I will be very proud."

The German shook his head slightly and went back to wrapping the bandage around the American's stomach. "What have I done to be proud of? I'm part of the Gestapo, I don't have the courage to stand up for those who are discriminated against, and instead of trying to change something I plan on taking off with my family. No, you should be proud of him when he grows up to be like you. You are bravely taking a stand against Fuhrmann and the injustice he does. You're protecting your brother and your friends. Trust me, you are the role model, not me."

Upon hearing Emil's withering assessment about himself, Jout stretched out his left hand and placed it on other man's arm. The touch made Emil glance at him, and Jout explained, "Don't be so harsh on yourself; you're a good man Emil. You see, it's not always big actions that make a difference, but the small ones. And I don't know if you have realized it, but right now, you're the only person in here who wants to help me. Who cares about me. That's why I think of you as a great guy."

The sound of keys turning in the heavy cell door interrupted their conversation. Jout removed his hand from Emil's arm and stared at the door, already having an inkling of who will enter the cell. The door opened and to his surprise he saw another person entering besides Fritz and Hans: Fuhrmann.

"Thank you, _Leutnant_ Becker, but I think you have done enough for him," Fuhrmann announced. "Our dear Lieutenant has an appointment, and it would be a shame if he is late."

Fritz and Hans walked over to Jout, pushing Emil out of the way. But the young man immediately scrambled to his feet and declared, "Major, I know that you want to continue the interrogation, but I think it would be better for Lieutenant Hogan if he had more time to rest. I'm sure he will be much more cooperative after a few hours of sleep."

Fuhrmann's only response was eying Emil for a long time. His proposal even made Fritz and Hans stop their movements; both too astonished at the young man speaking up against their CO. Then Fuhrmann began to laugh and said, "I'm touched by your concern, _Leutnant_ Becker. However, an exhausted Lieutenant Hogan is just what we need. May I remind you that he is an enemy soldier and suspected to be a spy, trying to hurt our glorious fatherland? I don't care whether he misses his beauty sleep." He directed his gaze back at Fritz and Hans and ordered, "Bring him to the special interrogation cell. _Hauptmann_ Richter is already waiting for us."

Fuhrmann's sidekicks nodded and pulled Jout aggressively up, not caring about his broken collarbone or smashed knee. Jout had to bite his lower lip again to prevent a painful groan, and then he was dragged out of the small room, leaving Emil and Fuhrmann behind.

"Special interrogation cell?" Emil asked as soon as Jout was out of sight. "What do you want to do to him?"

Fuhrmann gave Emil one of his diabolic grins and said, "I intend to show Lieutenant Hogan what we know about "electrical interrogation". Do you want to come along and watch?"

Shocked by Fuhrmann's response, Emil was merely able to absently shake his head. Fuhrmann shrugged his shoulders and swiftly left the cell to catch up with Fritz and Hans. Now the only person in the small cell that smelled like dried blood, Emil knelt down to collect the blood-stained bandages. As he looked at the red cloth he had removed from Jout's abdominal cavity, Emil came to a decision. He threw the used bandages in his medical bag and whispered, "I'm getting you out of here, Joshua. Even if it's the last thing I do."

* * *

The two German guards dragged Jout to the hallway with the interrogation cells, but instead of leading him into the last cell on the left, the one he was interrogated in the last two days, Fritz and Hans dragged him trough the opposite door on the right. This one lead to another hallway with only two doors on the left and two doors on the right. Hans opened the first door on the left and Fritz pushed Jout into the room. Jout immediately looked around the small cell, trying to figure out why it was called the "special interrogation cell". The first thing he noticed was a window in the right wall, through which he could see an unfamiliar Gestapo soldier currently plugging in wires into a big black box. The next thing he notices were the same wires coming through the wall into the cell he was standing in and lying on the ground next to a chair in the middle.

"Move it!" barked Fritz as he ruggedly shoved Jout to the chair, with that ending his observation of the room.

Jout was pushed into the chair and Fritz chained his wrists and ankles to it. So far nothing unusual. Then the German guard walked out of the cell, joining Hans and the unfamiliar soldier in the other room. Seconds later, Fuhrmann entered the cell and grinned wickedly at his prisoner while the strange soldier walked out of the other room and appeared in the cell.

"I hope you appreciate the change of scenery, Lieutenant Hogan. For me it was quite boring to get all those stubborn answers from you in the same room. That's why I thought we try something new." Fuhrmann pointed to the black-haired soldier next to him and said, "This is _Hauptmann_ Richter. He works for me in Gestapo Headquarters in Dusseldorf, but I thought I bring him over for our meeting."

"To have company during another attempt of futile questioning?" Jout asked, smirking back at Fuhrmann. Though he had told Emil that he did not know how longer he could stand the interrogation, Jout was determined to give cocky replies until his dying breath.

Fuhrmann laughed at Jout's remark. "Who says it's going to be futile? I for one believe that I will be successful today with the help of _Hauptmann_ Richter." The Gestapo major looked at the man standing next to him and ordered, " _Hauptmann_ , prepare the prisoner."

Richter nodded while walking over to Jout. He began to unbutton Jout's officer shirt and then he ripped the American's undershirt apart, revealing dark purple bruises on his chest and a bandage around his stomach area. As he knelt down to pick up the wires that lay next to the chair, Jout glanced at Fuhrmann and said, "I know my undershirt doesn't look good anymore since you stabbed me, but that is no reason to destroy it. I don't possess so many shirts."

Fuhrmann did not answer, only watched how Richter stood up and applied the electrodes that were at the end of the four wires to Jout's chest and temples. Jout, who already had an inkling of what was about to happen, started to panic slightly, evident by his increased heartbeat. When Richter was finished, he retreated to the spot beside Fuhrmann that he had previously occupied.

"You see, Lieutenant," Fuhrmann began. " _Hauptmann_ Richter is an expert on what we call "electrical interrogation". Do you know what that is?"

"I have an idea," Jout said with a calm voice while eying Fuhrmann sternly, trying to conceal his fear.

"Then let's see if your idea is right," Fuhrmann joyfully said.

He turned around and left the cell with Richter, closing the door behind him. The two Gestapo soldiers walked into the other room and Richter sat down by the big black box while Fuhrmann stood behind him between Fritz and Hans. Jout watched them and then he heard a clicking sound similar to those he had heard when turning on a microphone.

"Lieutenant Hogan," Jout heard Fuhrmann's voice over a speaker. "I ask you once more. Is your brother Colonel Robert Hogan the underground agent Papa Bear?"

Jout sighed. He was tired and exhausted; every nerve in his battered body aching for rest. In addition, the pain he felt in every part of his body made him feel dizzy and nauseous. But Jout reminded himself for whom he was enduring all of this, and thinking of his brother, boyfriend, and friends gave him the strength back he needed to take it up with Fuhrmann and his torturous methods. "How many times do I have to say it? My brother is a mere POW."

Immediately after his answer, Jout felt his muscles constricting upon blinding agony shooting through his body; much worse than anything he had endured the last two days. The pain was so tortuous that he was not able to suppress a pained scream. When the electricity stopped going through his body, his ragged breathing was the only thing audible for a moment.

"Very stimulating, isn't it?" Fuhrmann joked over the speaker. "I told you that I will be successful today. What is the real name of Papa Bear?"

Still panting from the shock earlier, Jout said, "I don't know anyone named Papa Bear. I'm only a POW."

Again, the electricity shot from the electrodes attached to his chest and temples through his whole body, making his muscles twitch painfully. Jout pressed his eyes shut as another cry left his lips and when the shock stopped, he let his head fall backwards and breathed laboriously. Even after the electricity had stopped going through his body, his limbs continued to twitch and he was not able to loose his tight grip on the chair's arms.

There was a cracking sound coming from the speaker and Fuhrmann's voice rung out. "I promise you, Lieutenant, if you give us the name of the underground agent, you won't be executed as a spy. I will personally make sure that your injuries are treated and that you will be made a member of our glorious fighting forces. You will find a home here in Germany, and together we will witness the victory of our fatherland. All you have to do is tell us who the underground agent Papa Bear is."

Jout took three deep breaths before answering. The two shocks only made his mind foggier because of which he had problems formulating a sentence. "You could…you could promise me the world…and my answer…would be the same. I can't…tell you the name of this underground agent…because I have…no contact with any underground units here in Germany." Though the pain in his body was excruciating, Jout was not able to bite back a snarky remark. "And even if I were…part of the underground…I would never betray…those courageous people…in exchange for being part of…a mob full of idiots…who blindly follow an intellectually challenged madman."

This remark did not go down well with Fuhrmann. As a consequence, Jout received a much higher and longer shock that ripped through his body, first constricting his muscles and then making them twitch uncontrollable. The room was filled with his agonizing screams that also pierced through the speaker and amused his captors. After toiling seconds, the shock stopped and Jout's screams were once more replaced by ragged breathing. But this time, the pain was too much for his already exhausted body to take and combined with the smell of burned skin underneath the electrodes, Jout had to vomit. He let his head hung down and in a matter of seconds, he passed out as his maltreated body sought shelter in the comforting darkness of unconsciousness.

* * *

 _In the evening at Stalag 13…_

One hour after evening roll call, Baker was in Hogan's office checking the coffee pot. The other prisoners were in the main room, most of them lying silently in their bunks and worrying about Jout. Only LeBeau who prepared dinner and Hogan who drank a cup of coffee were not occupying their bunks. Newkirk was in his final throes of finishing the wool blanket for Josh, which meant that Hogan was currently thinking about another distraction for the worried Brit.

Baker was just about to turn off the coffee pot when he heard Hilda's voice over the telephone line, informing Klink about an incoming call from Burkhalter. The American sergeant instantly rushed out of the small office and called, "Colonel, Burkhalter is calling Klink!"

Hogan raised an eyebrow while setting his cup down. He looked at his watched and said, "At this hour?"

Together with his core team, Hogan went into his office and settled around the coffee pot, listening to Burkhalter and Klink's telephone conversation.

" _General Burkhalter! What can I do for you at this late hour?"_

" _Klink, why is an anonymous note informing me about the Gestapo questioning one of your prisoners and not you?"_

 _Klink stammered, not knowing what to say. He was interrupted by Burkhalter ranting, "Spare me your babbling. I will visit Stalag 13 tomorrow morning. We will talk about this then."_

With that the conversation was over and Baker turned off the coffee pot. Everyone in Hogan's office was shocked upon learning that someone informed Burkhalter. Hogan was the first one to overcome the shock, his facial expression changing into a broad smile.

"Gentlemen," he declared. "We just found a way to get Josh out of Fuhrmann's clutches. And Burkhalter will be our ticket to do so."

 **[1] – Tommy was introduced in my prequel "Brothers in Arms". If you want to know exactly what Jout's relation to him is, you can read chapter 20. Everything is explained there.**


	13. Chapter 13

The next morning, Newkirk sat on the bench outside the barracks, leaning against the wall and smoking his probably third cigarette pack. He could not stop shaking ever since Burkhalter's call last evening. The prospect of having a chance to get Jout back to camp, back to him, was flooding his body with joy and adrenalin. Yet at the same time, his mind was dominated by doubts. Doubts if Burkhalter's visit would really help to get Jout back like Hogan suggested. And of course there was still the worry that Jout was not alive anymore, or barely alive if he arrived in camp. Fuhrmann's diabolical facial expression the night he took Jout away spelled trouble. And even though Jout himself requested not to be rescued because he knew it was the only way the prisoners in camp would not be endangered, Newkirk feared that after what his boyfriend had to endure, Jout might hold their and especially his own passiveness against them. To put it in a nutshell, Newkirk was afraid that their relationship might not be the same anymore and that everything they had planned for after the war would go down the drain.

His worried thoughts were interrupted when someone sat down next to him. Newkirk turned his head to see Hogan smiling softly at him, two cups in his hands. The American colonel stretched one cup out to his NCO and said, "Here. I figured you would like a cup of tea."

Newkirk returned a sheepish smile as he gratefully took the cup of brewed gold. He stubbed out his cigarette, always careful to not damage it so he could continue smoking it later and put it back in his pack which quickly found its way in his blue jacket's breast pocket. "Thank ya, gov'nor. 'at's just what I needed." Newkirk took a big gulp from the warm liquid, which instantly warmed up his cold body. He sat outside since six o'clock in the morning and October in Germany meant that a steady cold wind was chilling one down quickly.

Hogan took also a sip from his cup that contained coffee while observing the men in the compound. "Don't worry, Peter. I promised you I would get Josh out of there and I never break my promises."

"I know," Newkirk sighed, staring down into his cup. "It's just 'at there are so many other things on me mind right now."

"Like what?" Hogan enquired. Seeing one of his man who was at the same time the boyfriend of his brother being a nervous wreckage made his heart ache. As he noticed that Newkirk was reluctant to tell him what was on his mind, Hogan coaxed, "You can trust me, Peter. We're talking to each other as family members, remember? That means you don't have to act tough."

Still staring into his cup, Newkirk finally answered, "What if Fuhrmann 'as tortured Josh so bad 'at 'e dies 'ere in camp? I think I would break apart if I 'ad to watch 'im die. Or what if Josh is angry with us since we 'ave not done anythin' to prevent his 'urt?" Newkirk's voice grew thin and he whispered, "What if Josh is not the same person anymore and our relationship breaks apart?"

Again, Hogan's heart ached, and he wrapped his arm around Newkirk's shoulders. "Peter, listen to me. Everything will be alright. We don't even know what Fuhrmann has done to Josh, so don't assume the worst. And of course does a stay with the Gestapo change one, but war in generally does that. We are all not the same person as we have been before this mess started. But that doesn't mean that Josh's love for you has changed. I'm certain his feelings for you will never change." He squeezed the Brit's arm and said, "One step at a time, Peter. First we have to get Josh out of there. Then we can worry about everything else."

"Alright, gov'nor," Newkirk answered as he slightly nodded. "One step at a time. I take ya up on yer word."

Hogan smiled upon having succeeded in cheering his second-in-command up. Just in that moment, the front gate opened and a big black staff car rolled into camp. Burkhalter had arrived. While the car drove up to Klink's office, Hogan stood up from the bench and looked down at Newkirk. "Come on, let's go inside. I first want to listen to what Burkhalter and Klink talk about before I barge in and demand Josh's release."

With his heart beating in his ears and with shaking and sweaty palms, Newkirk rose to his feet and followed Hogan inside. Together with Baker, Carter, and LeBeau, they went into the adjoined room and closed the door behind them to listen to the conversation in Klink's office in private. Usually, Hogan sat down on the stool by the desk, but this time, he offered it to a shaky Newkirk, who gratefully accepted the offer. He did not think his legs could keep him up any longer now that the shaking in his body grew worse upon the much longed-for moment of a possible return of Josh was about to become reality. The other man settled around the table as Baker plugged in the coffee pot and after the familiar cracking sound, Burkhalter and Klink's voices rang through the speaker.

* * *

"General Burkhalter!" Klink nervously said and pointed to the chair in front of his desk. "Sit down, Sir. Care for a schnapps?"

"Klink! I'm not here on a friendly visit. We've got serious things to discuss," Burkhalter yelled. He pulled out a piece of paper from his pants pocket and laid it on the table. "Care to explain why a note informs me about the questioning of one of your prisoners by the Gestapo and not you?"

Klink looked at the note which said, " _Major Fuhrmann von der Gestapo befragt und foltert einen Kriegsgefangenen aus Stalag 13_ _zu Unrecht_." ["Major Fuhrmann of the Gestapo unjustly questions and tortures a prisoner of war from Stalag 13."]

"Who is this Major Fuhrmann anyway?" Burkhalter asked after Klink put down the note.

"He is the temporary replacement for Major Hochstetter, Sir," Klink answered. "And he told me it was not necessary to inform you since the questioning would not take long."

Burkhalter rolled his eyes. "Klink, no matter what some Gestapo major says, you of course have to inform me! I'm your commanding officer, not this Major Fuhrmann! What if a representative of the Red Cross had asked to visit your camp? I would have brought them here because I know that everything is in order with your camp, and then we would find out that the Gestapo is questioning a POW," Burkhalter ranted. "By the way, which prisoner is interrogated?"

"Lieutenant Joshua Hogan, Sir."

Burkhalter rubbed with his hand across his forehead and sighed. "Great, Klink. Not only does the Gestapo question one of your prisoners, no, it has to be one of the two officers in camp. When has Major Fuhrmann taken Lieutenant Hogan away?"

"On Monday, Sir."

"That was three days ago!" Burkhalter exclaimed. "And I'm sure you have not heard from Major Fuhrmann since Monday?"

Klink glanced down at his hands. "No, Sir."

Before Burkhalter could answer, the door was thrown open and Hogan barged into the room. "Colonel Klink! I demand…" Hogan stopped when he spotted Burkhalter sitting at the table and faked a surprised look. He quickly saluted and said, "Oh, General Burkhalter. I didn't know a visit from you was planned."

"It was at short notice," Klink answered. "And now go away, Colonel Hogan!"

"No, Sir, I won't. I demand the release of my brother, and I won't leave your office until you called Major Fuhrmann." Hogan walked up to the table and said to Burkhalter, "General Burkhalter, my brother was abducted from here in a hush-hush-operation. Since then I was not allowed to get in contact with him or the Red Cross, and Colonel Klink is refusing to order his release. I demand that he is brought back to camp immediately. My brother is an ordinary POW just like all of us and therefore I see no need in him getting questioned by the Gestapo in their own headquarters."

Hogan eyed Burkhalter, hoping the German general would help getting his brother back. From what Hogan had heard over the coffee pot, Burkhalter seemed not exactly pleased about Jout's absence too, which played into his hands. But with Burkhalter you never knew. Often he was just as afraid of the Gestapo as Klink and tried to stay far away from any Gestapo business. Hogan only hoped that today was his lucky day. This was his only chance to get his little brother back to them and thinking about Josh dying at Fuhrmann's hands made his stomach turn.

While he thought about the American's demand, Burkhalter also watched Hogan closely. Usually, the American colonel boasted with self-assurance and wit, always messing with Klink and his German captors. Sometimes, even he found himself fooled by Hogan's manipulative behaviour, which is something he would of course never admit. But this was the first time Burkhalter saw Hogan standing in front of him, his nervousness and fear clearly evident. Seeing how the fear for his brother rattled Hogan's self-confidence struck a nerve in Burkhalter. Hogan reminded him of himself after he had received note that his younger brother Ferdinand was captured in Stalingrad. He knew how bad off Germans in Soviet war captivity were; the Soviets in German war imprisonment were not better of either. So Burkhalter understood Hogan. He also knew what a questioning by the Gestapo meant. That was one of the reasons why he detested the Germany under Hitler's regime. He was a proud German, yes, but he was not proud of what had become of Germany. Burkhalter sighed and made a decision; a decision made by his conscience.

He reached for the phone and said, "Gestapo Headquarters, please." While the telephone line was connected, Burkhalter looked at Hogan and said, "Colonel Hogan, you can sit down and wait while I call Major Fuhrmann to order your brother's release."

Hogan sighed in relief. "Thank you, Sir," he said as he sat down, glad yet at the same time surprised at the German general's actions. Though he was relieved, Hogan's nervousness would only go away the moment he held Josh in his arms.

Suddenly, he heard Burkhalter saying, "General Burkhalter speaking. I want to speak to Major Fuhrmann. Not around? Where is he? Mhm, well go tell him that I order that his prisoner, Lieutenant Joshua Hogan, will be brought back to Stalag 13 in less than one hour. Understood? I don't care what Major Fuhrmann ordered, you will follow my orders. I'm the higher-ranking officer." Burkhalter nodded and said, "Call me as soon as you have talked to Major Fuhrmann."

Burkhalter hung up and glanced back at Hogan. "That was Fuhrmann's aide, Lieutenant Ziegler, on the phone. He told me Major Fuhrmann was not around, but he would inform him of my order. If you want, you can wait with Colonel Klink and me for the confirmation call."

"I would like that, Sir. Thank you very much," Hogan answered, again surprised at Burkhalter's behaviour. Who would have thought that the big general had a heart? Certainly not Hogan.

After ten long minutes that were filled with a heavy silence among the three officers, each of them lost in their own thoughts, the phone rang. The ringing sound broke through the silence and ripped the men out of their thoughts; fear was instantly flooding Hogan's mind.

Klink grabbed for the phone, but Burkhalter snatched the receiver away from him. "This is General Burkhalter. And? Alright. _Heil Hitler_." Argh, how he detested this greeting. Burkhalter hung up and once again looked at Hogan, whose eyes were filled with worry and at the same time hope. A feeling, Burkhalter knew all too well. "Colonel Hogan, your brother will be returned to camp in about twenty minutes."

The corners of Hogan's mouth raised into a small smile. "Thank you, General Burkhalter. I appreciate your help."

Hogan stood up and walked to the door. He opened it, but before he left the room, he heard Burkhalter saying, "I hope your brother is alright."

"I hope that too," Hogan replied. He turned around and left the room, closing the door behind him. On his way out he whispered, "Or else there will be deadly consequences."


	14. Chapter 14

When Jout awoke, he felt like he had been hit by a train. Every part of his body hurt; not to mention the incredible headache he had that made him feel nauseous. His mind needed a few minutes to take in his surroundings and to remember where he was. And most importantly: to remember what happened to him. As soon as the memories of the last three days came back to him, Jout closed his eyes and instantly tried to abolish those dark memories. He turned on his left side, which made him groan since the pressure on his broken ribs flooded his body with another wave of pain. With everything he had endured the last three days, Jout only hoped that his body would soon give in to the excruciating pain. It was a terrifying thing to wish for, but he could not stand another interrogation; confronted by whatever evil thing Fuhrmann had thought of. Besides the intense pain he felt, there was also the fear that with every additional round of torture, Fuhrmann might succeed in pushing him to his breaking point. And that was something that he had to prevent; under no circumstance could he allow himself to spill his brother's secret. To many lives depended on him keeping the operation a secret. To many lives of those he loved would be erased if he talked. And Jout would take the truth about Stalag 13 to his grave if necessary.

His back facing the door, Jout only heard the heavy iron door open without seeing who entered the cell. Fearing the worst, Jout acted like he was still unconscious, hoping that his captors would leave him alone for a couple more hours. The door was closed again and he heard a familiar voice calling, "Joshua!", which made him slowly turn around on his back.

Emil quickly made his way over to the battered Jout, kneeling down next to him. "How are you holding up?"

Jout blinked a few times as he tried to straighten out his mind. The fog that clouded his mind was getting stronger and he had difficulty speaking. "I can't…longer…bear up against…the pain. It's too much."

He closed his eyes again, which made Emil tap his cheek while saying, "Hey, don't give up! It's almost over, Joshua. Don't stop fighting so close to the finish line!"

"How…how do you want…to know that?" Jout asked.

"I can't tell you anything," Emil answered. "You just have to trust me."

Emil began to examine the burns on Jout's body, caused by the electricity that had come from the electrodes. There were two round singes on his temples and two other round singes on his chest. The four burn wounds were reddened and lightly swollen, which calmed Emil down. The burns were the lightest form of singes that existed; therefore, much easier to treat and a full recovery was possible if Jout would get out of here.

While Emil placed wet clothes on the burns, Jout pressed his eyes shut upon the immense pain the cloths on the burn wounds created. When the pain slowly started to ease after a few minutes, Jout put his hand on Emil's arm and said, "You need to flee."

Emil gazed at him, totally confused. "What are you talking about?"

"Promise me…you will flee with your family," Jout answered. "Today."

Emil shook his head. "I don't have the money to flee right now. In a few months, yes."

Now Jout was the one who shook his head. "No, Emil. You must flee right now. No matter your finances." Jout fought to open his eyes, and when he finally managed to do so, he stared into Emil's crystal blue eyes. "Leave the Gestapo, Emil. Don't let your daughter find out that you were a member of this gruesome organisation. Germany will lose the war, and the world will find out the truth about every atrocity Hitler's regime has ever committed. What will your daughter say if she finds out you were a part of this regime, even though your intentions were noble?"

Emil bid his lip. He looked away from Jout and said, "But I don't have the money to get me and my family to Switzerland."

Jout took a deep breath and whispered, "You said I should trust you. Now I prove to you how much I trust you." As Emil directed his glance back at Jout, the American lieutenant said, "I know someone who will get you out of Germany; he is a greengrocer in town. Go to him and ask if he owns a Schnauzer. He will answer, "No, I own a Weimaraner". Then you tell him that one of Papa Bear's cubs sends you and that you want to talk to Papa Bear." Jout raised his right hand and removed the bracelet Tommy had made for him. "When you meet Papa Bear, give him this bracelet and tell him everything that we have talked about. He will get you out of Germany."

Jout put the bracelet in Emil's open hand, who only stared at him, not believing what he had just heard. "Fuhrmann's right with his suspicion?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"That's a question I can't answer," Jout replied. "You just have to trust me."

Upon hearing a key turning in the heavy iron door, Emil quickly hid the bracelet in his inner coat pocket. He rose to his feet as soon as Fuhrmann and his sidekicks entered the small cell.

" _Leutnant_ Becker, what are you doing here?" Fuhrmann questioned. "I can't remember ordering you to treat our friend."

Emil gulped at Fuhrmann's dangerous tone and stammered, "Ahem…you didn't, Sir. But I just wanted to check if my treatment methods worked. You know, to see how good I am."

"And how good are you?" Fuhrmann asked, still eying him suspiciously.

"He's holding up pretty good, Sir. But if he doesn't see a doctor soon, I'm afraid he will die."

Fuhrmann nodded slowly. "Alright, _Leutnant_. Dismissed!"

"Major, I really think –"

"I said, Dismissed!" Fuhrmann barked.

Heavy-heartedly, Emil packed up his medicine bag and trotted away. But before he left the cell, he glanced at Jout one last time, sending a silent prayer that the help he promised Jout would not come to late. When he had left the small room, Fuhrmann walked up to Jout, who lay motionless on the ground.

Fuhrmann slightly kicked him into his side and ordered, "Wake up, Lieutenant! People are waiting for you."

Jout refused to move just one inch and he kept his eyes closed as he tried to ignore the pain coming from his bruised ribs that Fuhrmann deliberately kicked against. After another kick against his shoulder, which Jout silently endured, he was suddenly poured over with ice-cold water. Jout gasped and started coughing, turning on his left side and curling into a ball.

"Ah, I knew this would wake you," Fuhrmann said. "It worked so beautifully the last time I tried it." He snapped with his fingers which made Fritz and Hans step closer, pulling Jout forcefully up. The American gritted his teeth to prevent a pain-filled groan, and Fuhrmann asked, "How are we feeling, Lieutenant Hogan? Already recovered from the little shock treatment you have received yesterday?"

Jout stared at Fuhrmann and growled, "You're crazy if you think I would lie and falsely accuse my brother of espionage and sabotage because you torture me."

Fuhrmann laughed. "Seems to me you still have your fighting spirit."

"And I won't lose it," Jout declared. "No matter what you do to me."

"Oh, that I've already figured out. That's why I thought of something else. But for that we have to leave this building."

Fritz and Hans started dragging Jout across the room, when Jout asked, "Where are you taking me?"

Fuhrmann, who walked in front of Jout, turned around in the doorframe and said, "The execution side." He turned around again and quickly left the cell.

Jout gulped as Fritz and Hans continued to drag him through the hallway. Now it was going to an end. Finally, Jout thought. Though the thought of never seeing his brother and especially Peter again broke his heart, Jout was glad that at least they would survive another day. And while he was led outside the building, Jout prayed to God, asking for the strength to endure his last moments. He also requested the needed strength for Peter to live on and find happiness again after the war. He only hoped that Peter would not completely fall apart like he had told him he would.

The execution side was in the backyard of Gestapo Headquarters. To reach it, Jout was led through one of the doors in the left hallway by the interrogation cells. Fritz and Hans dragged him trough the door and then down the outside stairs of the building. As soon as Jout stepped outside, he pressed his eyes shut since they were not used to the sunlight after more than three days in dark cells without windows. Because of his closed eyes, he almost fell down the stairs, but the tight grip Fritz and Hans had on his arms prevented his fall. Jout blinked a few times and when his eyes were used to the light again, he was able to fully open them. And what he saw shocked him. In front of a wall was standing a man and a woman who had her arms wrapped around two small children, a boy and a girl. The girl was crying into her presumably mother's coat and the rest of the family stared terrified at the soldiers who stood about thirty feet away from the wall, all having rifles in their hands.

"What is going on here?" Jout asked Fuhrmann.

"You know, Lieutenant," Fuhrmann began explaining as he positioned himself in front of Jout. "The last days have shown me that you are very strong-minded. And extremely protective. I believe you when you say that no matter what I do to you, you would never incriminate your brother. Because you would rather die than let anything happen to your brother and friends. I have realized so much. That's why I brought them here," Fuhrmann said as he pointed at the family in front of the wall.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Jout questioned while he continued to stare at the family.

Fuhrmann laughed. "I give you one last chance to do the right thing and tell me what I want to hear. Either you tell me who Papa Bear is and everything else about his operation, or you refuse and I will give the order to shoot."

Jout gazed at Fuhrmann, totally aghast. "You want to shoot an innocent family? What kind of sick bastard are you?"

This comment earned Jout a blow to his jaw by Fuhrmann. Jout slumped a bit upon the force of the blow, but he was kept upright by Fritz and Hans.

"Watch your mouth, Lieutenant!" Fuhrmann barked. "And don't forget that you are the one who could prevent such a sad outcome. All you have to do is tell me who Papa Bear is, and no one will be hurt. Not them, not you. My offer still stands."

Jout glanced at the family, and the father gave him a pleading look. " _Bitte, helfen Sie uns. Wir haben nichts getan!_ " ["Please, help us. We have done nothing wrong!"]

Jout could not believe what was happening. How could a person be so cruel? How could Fuhrmann demand from him to decide whether his brother and friends or this innocent family dies? Then again, how should he decide? He knew he had to protect the operation, it was too important to spill it; the people connected to it were too important to him to tell Fuhrmann what he wanted to hear. But as Jout looked in the faces of this family, the angry yet at the same time afraid face of the man, the woman's terrified facial expression, the young girl's face that he couldn't see because it was buried in her mother's coat, and the young boy whose big brown eyes were filled with fear, Jout knew he could not let them die. The boy reminded Jout of Tommy; he was probably about six years old, the same age as Tommy, and the girl was presumably about four years old. Jout's mind was rotating. He had no idea what to do. He was an honourable officer. He saw it as his duty to fight the Nazis without hurting the civilian people. Of course he knew that the bombing raids he flew often hit the civilian people, which was something that weighed heavily on his conscience, but still, he would never deliberately hurt civilians when he was facing them eye to eye. However, at the same time, he saw it as his duty to protect Rob, Peter, his friends, and the whole operation and everyone that was involved in it.

" _It's an easy calculation. One life or hundreds of lives."_

Jout remembered what he had told Rob when they discussed whether he wanted to be rescued or not. And now he had to do the same calculation; either he saved the family, which would cost hundreds of brave men and women their lives, or he let innocent civilians die to protect all those people.

" _Warum wollen Sie uns töten, Major? Wir haben nichts falsch gemacht; wir sind loyal gegenüber dem Führer_ ," said the man to Fuhrmann. ["Why do you want to kill us, Major? We have done nothing wrong; we are loyal to the Fuhrer."]

Fuhrmann turned his attention away from Jout and directed his glance at the family in front of the wall. " _Ich habe kein Interessa daran euch zu töten. Das ist die Entscheidung unseres lieben Lieutenants hier_." ["I have no interest in killing you. It's the decision of our dear Lieutenant here."]

The man quickly glanced at Jout, again a pleading expression on his face, before he turned his gaze back at Fuhrmann. " _Lassen Sie wenigstens meine Kinder gehen. Sie sind zu jung um zu sterben._ " ["Let at least my children go. They are too young to die."]

" _Tut mir leid, aber das kann ich nicht machen_ ," Fuhrmann said while shaking his head. " _Ihre Kinder sind meine Sicherheit dass Lieutenant Hogan die richtige Entscheidung trifft."_ ["I'm sorry, but I can't do this. Your children are my safety police that Lieutenant Hogan makes the right decision."]

Fuhrmann turned around again and stared at Jout. "Time's up, Lieutenant. What is your decision?"

Jout glanced back at the family and bid his lip. He could not believe what he was about to say. "I don't know who Papa Bear is or anything related to that term." He dropped his gaze to avoid looking at the family whose death warrant he had just signed.

Fuhrmann seemed also surprised as he asked, "Are you sure that's your last word? I hope you know what's at stake, Lieutenant."

Jout slightly shook his head, his gaze still directed at the ground. "Yes, that's my final word."

"Alright," Fuhrmann said. He turned around once again and ordered, " _Fertig…Schießen_!" ["Get set…shoot!"]

Jout continued to stare at the ground when the sounds of multiple gunshots rang in his ears. He heard a dull sound of bodies dropping to the ground.

As he still refused to look up, he heard Fuhrmann saying, "Mei, mei, I really thought you decide to save this family."

"You are a sick bastard!" Jout exclaimed once again while the soldiers who shot the family brought their dead bodies away. "How can you order to shoot innocent people?"

"It's all for the bigger goal," Fuhrmann answered. "Some of us have to die in order for Germany to win the war and show the rest of the world that we are the sole superpower." The German major tilted his head, which made Fritz and Hans pulling Jout towards the wall. "You know, Lieutenant, I really enjoyed our time together. Unfortunately, you were not as talkative as I hoped you to be, which means we must end our chat here. My superiors won't tolerate me wasting any more time on you."

Fritz and Hans dragged Jout to the place where minutes ago the family stood and pushed him down on his knees. In the meantime, the soldiers who killed the family lined up for the next execution, their hands gripping their rifles tightly. Jout watched the scene as he mentally prepared himself for his death. He had to admit, he was glad his life was about to be ended. He would die for a good course, keeping his boyfriend, brother, and friends save. Though he was sad for Peter and Tommy that they were about to lose their boyfriend and father, his responsibility in the death of this innocent family weighed heavily on his conscience.

"Anything you want to say before you will be executed?" Fuhrmann asked.

Jout stared at Fuhrmann, his eyes showing the German major that he was not intimidated or afraid by the thought of dying. "Only this: Germany will lose the war and then the world will learn what kind of atrocities people like you committed. You are on the wrong side of history."

As he continued to stare at Fuhrmann, Jout began to silently pray for that his family and friends would not grieve over his death and that they would have great lives after the war ended.

" _Fertig…_ " Fuhrmann ordered, his voice ranging through the backyard. ["Get set.."]

The soldiers moved their rifles up, targeting the kneeling American lieutenant. At death's door, Jout sent one last prayer, asking God for a miracle he knew would not come. But anything was better than dying hopelessly.

 **Will Jout survive, or did Fuhrmann's aide lie to Burkhalter when he said they would return him to camp? Find out in the next chapter.**


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: Be prepared for a long chapter that reveals whether or not Jout will survive.**

* * *

" _Fertig…_ " Fuhrmann ordered, his voice ranging through the backyard. ["Get set.."]

With his hands tied behind his back, Jout stared into the barrels of twelve rifles, all aimed at him. The only thing audible were the leaves of some trees in the yard that rustled in the wind. Jout shifted his gaze and stared at Fuhrmann, who gave him a wicked grin. One of the few rays of sunshine that had fought their way through the thick layer of massive dark grey clouds covering the sky fell into his eyes and made his pitch-black eyes sparkle brightly in the most devilish manner Jout had ever seen.

Fuhrmann opened his mouth, ready to give the deadly command. He had hoped to break his prisoner so that he would get evidence for taking Colonel Hogan down, but after days of unsuccessful interrogation, he was happy to see the American lieutenant being shot. He would find the proof he needed; that was for sure. Just as he was about to bark out his order, he heard someone yelling from the outside stairs.

"Stop!" screamed the voice belonging to his aide _Hauptmann_ Ziegler.

Fuhrmann turned his head and saw how Ziegler stormed down the stairs. He looked back at his soldiers that were ready to execute the kneeling prisoner in front of them and said, "Don't shoot until I say so, but keep your rifles pointed at him."

Jout watched the scene in front of him, totally surprised by the Gestapo soldier who came dashing down the stairs. A tiny little voice in the back of his mind hoped that this was the rescue he had prayed for, but the majority of him was certain that this was only one of Fuhrmann's ways to have more fun in this execution. To make him believe he was going to be saved, only to crush his hopes. So for the most part, Jout kept his cool and simply waited for Fuhrmann to return and give the fatal command.

When Ziegler had made his way over to Fuhrmann, the Gestapo major hissed, "What do you want, Ziegler? I told you that I'm busy with something important!"

"I know that, Sir," said Ziegler, completely out of breath from running through the whole Gestapo building in record time. He knew what his CO planned to do with his prisoner and therefore he had run as fast as he could in order to reach the scene of happening in time to deliver Burkhalter's order. "But General Burkhalter just called. He ordered to return Lieutenant Hogan to Stalag 13 in less than one hour."

Fuhrmann narrowed his eyes. "How does he know I hold him captive?"

"I don't know, Major. Maybe Colonel Klink informed him?"

"Klink's too afraid to disobey the Gestapo," Fuhrmann said, shaking his head. He turned his head to glance at the kneeling Jout, and suddenly, he knew who informed Burkhalter. "He will be sorry for that," Fuhrmann mumbled.

"Who, Sir?" asked Ziegler.

Fuhrmann turned his attention back to his aide and said, "That's not of your concern, Ziegler. Go and call General Burkhalter. Tell him Lieutenant Hogan will be returned in about twenty minutes."

"Will do, Major!" Ziegler replied. He gave his commanding officer a salute, then he quickly walked away.

Fuhrmann watched his aide leave. He raised his right hand to his face, pinching the back of his nose.

Jout had watched the conversation between the two German officers, seeing the annoyed reaction Fuhrmann had given the other officer. Though there were still twelve rifles pointed at him, the soldiers holding them all waiting for a command to carry out the execution, he could not bite back a witty remark.

"Trouble in paradise, Major?" Jout laughed.

Fuhrmann slowly turned around, gazing at the battered prisoner who knelt in front of the wall. He had to give it to the American; even in front of his own execution squad was he making witty remarks.

" _Waffen runter_!" Fuhrmann barked. The soldiers complied, all lowering their rifles. The Gestapo major made his way over until he stood right in front Jout, staring down on him with a dirty grin on his face. "Seems like today is your lucky day, Lieutenant. Someone informed General Burkhalter of our little gathering here and now I was being ordered to return you to Stalag 13."

Jout gave him a broad smile but did not say anything. His heart continued to make double jumps; however, now out of joy rather than fear. But still, there was a small voice in his mind that reminded him to stay calm and only be happy when he was back in camp. After all, it could be Fuhrmann's way of enjoying this execution even more: giving Jout the hope of surviving, only to shoot him in the end nonetheless.

Fuhrmann stepped back and began to walk towards the outside stairs. "Thelig, Neumann, take the dear Lieutenant to the truck."

Fritz and Hans dragged Jout to his feet and back up the stairs, which was even more difficult for Jout than when they went down the stairs because he was not able to raise his left leg with his smashed knee. But once more did the tight grip the two German guards had on him solve the problem. As the group walked through the building, Jout took deep breaths to stay awake; the excruciating pain in his body combined with more than three days without food and water was starting to take its toll on Jout, making it hard for him to keep his eyes open.

In no time at all, Jout was suddenly thrown into the back of a truck usually used to transport military divisions. He remained lying down in the middle of the truck bed, not strong enough to move on his own. He continued his fight for consciousness as he felt how two people climbed onto the truck bed. Then Jout heard how the engine was started and felt the truck moving, right before he lost his battle and slipped into unconsciousness.

* * *

 _Twenty minutes later, Stalag 13…_

Hogan was sitting in Hilda's office, staring at the watch on his wrist. Burkhalter had left the camp right after the confirmation call, having done everything he wanted to do. Now Hogan waited anxiously for the promised return of his brother, hoping with all his heart that his little brother was alright. But always prepared for the worst, Hogan had ordered Wilson to wait in their barracks in case they really needed a medic. Everyone except Newkirk was with Wilson inside the barracks; the nervous Brit pretending to clean the porch of Klink's office while gazing the whole time at the front gate, eagerly awaiting to catch sight of a truck or car that brought his love back to him.

As a green truck approached the front gate, Newkirk's heart started beating in record time. He used the broomstick to knock against the building's wall, with that showing Hogan that someone had entered the camp. The Brit went back to sweeping the floor while observing how the truck drove up to the office building, stopping right in front of it. But he was not able to see Jout since the back of the truck was facing the other direction. Two people got out of the front of the truck; one was Fuhrmann, and Newkirk identified the other as a captain. The two officers swiftly walked past him, and Newkirk had to use all his strength to prevent himself from leaping at the red-haired major.

When the door opened, Hogan quickly rose to his feet but refused to give the major a salute. Fuhrmann gave him a knowing grin and said, "No need for formalities, Colonel Hogan."

In that moment, the door to Klink's office opened and the balding officer entered the anteroom. Fuhrmann gave him a quick salute and said, "Colonel Klink, I have been ordered by General Burkhalter to return your prisoner."

"And where is Lieutenant Hogan?" Klink asked.

"He's in the truck, Sir." Fuhrmann glanced at Hogan and said with a smirk, "He isn't in the constitution to make his way over here on his own."

Hogan felt anger rising in him as well as fear. He took a deep breath before he looked at Klink and asked, "Can I go and get my brother?"

Klink nodded and together with Ziegler, Hogan left Hilda's office. He tilted his head at Newkirk when he walked past him, indicating that the Brit should follow him. They walked to the back of the truck and Ziegler ordered Fritz and Hans to step aside. As Hogan moved closer, he saw his brother lying motionless on the truck bed. Faster than the speed of light, Hogan climbed into the back and crouched down by Jout's head. He put two of his fingers on Jout's neck, feeling for a pulse. Relieved at finding one, his body was instantly filled with a wave of concern upon the weak pulse rate. He felt his heart constricting as he spotted the dried blood all over Jout's face.

"Newkirk, help me getting him to the barracks," Hogan ordered.

Newkirk stepped closer and his heart sunk upon seeing the same dried blood-smears on his boyfriend's face. He slipped his shaky hands underneath Jout's back and legs, gently lifting him off the trunk bed. He was able to hear a small moan coming from the lifeless form in his arms, and he settled his boyfriend's head against his left shoulder. Hogan jumped from the trunk bed and they rushed across the compound towards their barracks.

Newkirk lowered his head and whispered into Jout's ear, "Everythin' will be alright, Josh. Just 'an' on. Please, 'an' on, luv."

When they reached the barracks, Hogan swiftly opened the door and as Newkirk stepped inside with an unconscious Jout in his arms, Wilson, who sat at the common table, dashed up from his stool and declared, "Newkirk, bring him in Colonel Hogan's room."

Newkirk quickly walked across the main room with Hogan and the rest of the core team right behind him. He gingerly laid Jout down on the bottom bunk, then he knelt down by his boyfriend's head. Baker, LeBeau, and Carter stayed at the foot end of the bunk, watching fearfully how Wilson moved closer to Jout to examine him. Hogan had positioned himself by his desk, also watching the scene in front of him, his body filled with a mixture of fear and worry for his brother and anger and hatred for Fuhrmann.

"I checked for his pulse in the truck," Hogan said, directing his information to the medic, who currently had his back turned to him. "It was dangerously weak."

Wilson approached the lying form in the bunk, kneeling down right next to Newkirk, who had begun to tenderly brush away some of Jout's brown hair from his forehead. As Wilson placed his left hand on Jout's jacket, he noticed that the fabric was wet. "I wonder what they did to him. His clothes are soaking wet," he announced. Wilson turned to Newkirk and said, "Help me get him out of the jacket."

Together the two men began to remove Jout's jacket. This elicited a groan from Jout, who still had his eyes closed. But the indication of his awareness for his surroundings made Newkirk instantly drop to his knees and stroking the American's cheek. "Don't worry, luv. Ya're back in camp and Wilson will patch ya up in no time."

Wilson began his examination by checking Jout's head for any injuries. Besides the small cut right underneath the hairline, the other injuries were two round marks on his temples and a broken nasal bone. "His nose is broken, but somehow the swelling is under control."

"Is this unusual?" Hogan asked.

"Well, it means that either his nose was broken five minutes ago or that it was already treated," Wilson explained. He saw how Jout was fighting to open his eyes; therefore, he turned to Newkirk and said, "Talk with him; let him hear your voice. I'm sure that will help him to wake up."

Newkirk nodded and lowered his head, whispering soothing words in Jout's ear that no one else was able to hear.

"What are those marks on his temples?" Hogan asked from his position by the desk, his arms crossed in front of his chest.

"I don't know exactly," Wilson answered. He took a closer look at them and answered, "They appear to be burn wounds."

Newkirk, who continued to brush with his fingers through Jout's hair, asked, "What could cause them? They look like perfect circles."

"I'm afraid that's something only the Lieutenant can answer." Of course Wilson had already a suspicion, but he did not want to concern the others without being absolutely sure. He turned his attention away from Jout's head and to his upper body, when he noticed the hole in Jout's shirt, surrounded by dried up blood. He quickly unbuttoned the beige shirt and flung it open, also removing it with the help of Newkirk. "His undershirt is ripped apart," he commented while he removed it too.

And what they saw shocked everyone in the room, filling every person with even more worry and concern, something they thought was not possible. There were two other singes on his chest, which was covered in dark blue and purple bruises. A bandage was wrapped around Jout's right shoulder and his stomach, and his left shoulder was also sporting blue bruises.

"Filthy _bosche_!" hissed LeBeau upon seeing the bruises on his friend's upper body.

"Well, at least our question to what happened with his nose is answered," Wilson said. "Seems like someone tried to help Lieutenant Hogan."

Wilson started at the top, turning his attention to Jout's left shoulder. The medic touched the blue bruises, feeling a slight swelling. "I would say his shoulder was dislocated, but someone put it already back in place." Then he began to unwrap the right shoulder, it too covered in blue bruises. However, the swelling around it was much more severe than the other one. The crunching sound coming from the right shoulder when he touched it combined with the groan Jout made confirmed his suspicion. "His right shoulder was dislocated and reset as well, but his collarbone is broken."

Wilson was just about to check on the bruises on the American's chest, when a much louder groan from Jout caught his attention.

" 'e's wakin' up!" exclaimed Newkirk, whose fingers were still buried in Jout's umber brown hair.

Jout slowly opened his eyes, a moan coming from his lips upon the light that blinded him. He started to blink in an attempt to accustom his eyes to the brightness; all the while he heard voices talking, but he was not able to make out exactly what they said. When his eyes were fully opened again, the first thing he saw was the concerned face of his boyfriend.

"Peter," Jout mumbled. He hoped what he saw was real and that his exhausted mind did not decide to play games on him.

"I'm 'ere, darlin'," Jout heard Newkirk saying with his sweet accent that he loved so much. "Ya're back in camp. Wilson is examinin' ya."

"Where's Rob?" Jout asked a bit louder as he realized he had not seen his brother yet, fearing that Fuhrmann might have taken him away.

Hogan quickly stepped forward upon the anxious tone of his brother's voice. "I'm here, Josh. Everything will be alright; don't worry."

Jout closed his eyes again, a wave of pain and nausea flooding through his body. He took a deep breath as he fought those unpleasant feelings and said, "Spy…London…Captain John Stewart…US Army Air Force…aide…General Gallagher."

"What gives you that idea?" asked Hogan, confused at his brother's information.

"Fuhrmann knew about…our abusive father," Jout croaked. "Not in my…records…only…John…knows."

Hogan saw Jout pressing his eyes shut again as his face constricted in a painful manner. "I'll give notice to London later. Now we have to focus on you."

Wilson crouched closer to Jout's head, placing a comforting hand on his left shoulder. "Lieutenant Hogan, how come you have burn wounds on your temples and chest?"

As if to answer Wilson's question, Jout's body started to shake uncontrollably.

"What's goin' on?" exclaimed Newkirk fearfully.

Wilson grabbed around Jout's body, pulling him on his right side and making sure his head was hanging down from the bunk. "This confirms my suspicion. Lieutenant Hogan was given electric shocks, which damaged his nerve system. This is its way of coping with the stress." He looked at Newkirk, who was too stunned to answer. "Grab his head and hold it in place."

Newkirk did as told before asking, "Why 'ave ya moved 'im?"

"Lieutenant Hogan is currently not able to control the movement of any part of his body. With his head lying back on the bunk, there is a big risk that his tongue falls back in his throat, with that blocking his airways which could lead to suffocation. But with his head hanging downwards, we can prevent that."

Minutes of shaking and anxiety went by, and as sudden as the shaking had started, as sudden it stopped. Wilson felt Jout's body going limp in his grip and he carefully pushed him back on the bunk, instantly checking for his pulse. It was as weak as before the seizure; much too weak for Wilson's liking. "I don't like his pulse rate at all," he said.

"What's with the shaking?" Hogan questioned. "Will it stay?"

"Only time can answer this question," Wilson declared. "It depends on how much damage the electric shocks have done to his nerve system."

Wilson crouched back to Jout's stomach area and began to unwrap the bandage that was around the belly. As soon as he removed the bandage, blood began to shoot out of the hole in Jout's body, which was a few inches above the American's lumbar region.

He pressed the already blood-soaked bandage on the wound and turned his head to the three people at the foot end of the bunk. "Baker, come here! And someone has to bring me a clean bandage from my medical bag!"

Carter scrambled to get Wilson a fresh bandage while Baker walked over to where Wilson knelt. The medic took his hands and pressed them on the wound. "Apply as much pressure as possible. We have to get this bleeding under control. No wonder his heart rate is so low."

Baker complied, the pressure he applied eliciting a loud groan from Jout. Wilson glanced to Jout and said, "I'm sorry, Lieutenant, but the pressure is needed to help you."

Newkirk began to brush through Jout's hair again, lowering his head to give Jout a tender kiss on his forehead. "Just 'an' on, darlin'! I promise ya, the pain will soon be gone."

As Wilson caught sight of the bandage around Jout's left palm, he took the hand in his and moved it closer to him to be able to examine it. He also spotted the cuts along both of his wrists. "The Gestapo sure didn't treat him with kid gloves," Wilson remarked as he removed the bandage. "Another stab wound," he finally said.

He laid Jout's hand down, deciding that the stab wound was the smallest of their problems. He crouched down to the lieutenant's legs in search of more injuries, seeing that the left trouser leg was cut open. He rolled up the trouser leg, revealing another bandage around the knee which was also covered partly in blood. When he removed the bandage, he was greeted by a lot of dried blood around the knee as well as another hole in the skin.

Carter, who had worriedly watched the whole examination, asked, "How can there be a stab wound in his knee?"

Wilson carefully inserted two of his fingers in the wound, which made Jout cry out in pain. Newkirk quickly lowered his head and started to whisper soothing words in his ear once more, combined with gently stroking his cheek.

The medic removed his fingers again, wiping his hand clean on one of the used bandages. "It's no stab wound; it's a bullet wound. The bullet is still inside."

Wilson turned around, gazing intensely at Hogan. "Lieutenant Hogan needs to go to a hospital. I'm not able to provide the necessary treatment to help him, and without surgery, he will die."

Wilson's statement filled the room with a heavy silence. About half an hour ago, everyone was happy about the prospect of Josh returning to them, but now they feared that they might lose him after all.

Hogan stared down at his little brother, lying in his bunk and wringing in pain. "I'll inform Klink," Hogan said, with that swiftly leaving the room.

Wilson returned his attention to his patient and started to wrap fresh bandages around the wounds. He could not do much more, having not the essential supplies and lacking the necessary experience. He knew that Jout needed surgery, and with a lot of luck he might be able to succeed in operating the lieutenant, but how should they set up a surgical theatre in a POW camp?

Jout stirred, his eyes slowly opening. "No…," he began to mumble. "No…hospital."

Wilson was confused at the American's wish. "It's the only place to get proper help, Lieutenant. Why don't you want to go there?"

Jout stirred some more, trying to move up from the bunk bed. "Please…no…no German…hospital."

Light dawned on Wilson upon hearing the plea. Of course the last thing Jout would want after days away from his loved ones and in the hands of a crazy madman was leaving the camp once again to go to a place full of Germans. Wilson placed a reassuring hand on Jout's mostly uninjured left shoulder, carefully pushing him down, and said, "Don't worry, Lieutenant. You won't be going alone. I will be accompanying you, making sure that no one will harm you."

In that moment, the door to the main room opened and Hogan's voice rang through the room. "I'm telling you, Kommandant, my brother needs immediate medical attention. See for yourself if you don't believe me."

Hogan stepped into his room, followed by Klink. When the German's eyes fell on the officer lying in the bottom bunk, his body was instantly filled with a wave of guilt over his own inactivity in trying to get him back from the Gestapo.

Gulping down the big lump in his throat, Klink tried to sound as nonchalant as possible. "What's the matter, Sergeant Wilson?"

Wilson rose to his feet. "Colonel Klink, Lieutenant Hogan needs to go to the hospital. Now."

"That's what Colonel Hogan already said. Don't you think it will be enough if I organise the needed supplies for you?" It was not that Klink did not want to help his prisoners. He just did not want one to leave the camp again, going somewhere else where he could not protect him. Ah, who was he kidding? He was not even able to prevent one of his prisoners being taken away from his own camp. Why was he thinking he had to act like a tough commandant now?

"Colonel Klink," Wilson began in a calm voice. "If I only lacked a few supplies, I would be asking for them right now, not for a transfer to the hospital. Lieutenant Hogan has multiple wounds that need surgical attention, something I can't provide because first, I'm not a surgeon, and second, I'm in a POW camp. His heart rate is alarmingly slow, and if he does not see a doctor soon, Lieutenant Hogan will die. So I'm asking for an immediate transfer to the hospital."

Klink looked around the room, everyone staring at him. He saw the fear in the prisoners' eyes, which made the decision for him. "I will call for an ambulance right away," Klink announced. "It should be here in around fifteen minutes."

"Lieutenant Hogan doesn't have fifteen minutes," Wilson interjected. "He needs to be brought to the hospital **right now**."

Klink nodded. "I will call for a truck from the motor pool then." With that, Klink left the small room, leaving the prisoners behind.

Wilson turned around again, taking a blanket from the upper bunk and spreading it on the ground. "Help me placing Lieutenant Hogan down on the blanket. We will use it as a stretcher."

Everyone scrambled to get closer to the bunk and together they gingerly laid Jout down on the blanket. There was still a low moan leaving Jout's lips, but he was too exhausted to complain any further. He was starting to slip back into unconsciousness, and he had to use all the strength he could muster to stay awake. He felt how he was being lifted into the air, but that was all his clouded mind registered. Carter, LeBeau, Baker, and Newkirk each had a tight grip on one of the blanket's corners, carefully carrying Jout out of Hogan's office and into the barracks' main room. The other occupants watched with horrified looks on their faces how the American lieutenant was brought out of the barracks.

Right in front of the barracks stood a German military truck, similar to the one Jout was brought into camp with. Corporal Schneider, one of the friendly guards, was sitting in front, waiting for everyone to be settled in. In the back of the truck were Corporal Langenscheidt and Sergeant Fischer sitting, he too one of the friendly guards, ready to help the group lifting Jout into the back of the truck. When they had managed to move Jout into the truck without making him moan in pain too much, Wilson climbed into the truck too.

"What do you think you are doing, Sergeant?" asked Klink, who had watched the whole moving process.

"Going along with Lieutenant Hogan, Sir," Wilson answered while he settled down on the floor of the truck bed next to Jout.

"Oh, no, no, no!" exclaimed Klink. "This is a POW camp, not a hotel. You're a prisoner, not a guest who can come and go whenever he likes."

The other prisoners started to loudly utter their protest, when Wilson said, "With all due respect, Sir, but do you really want to only send your guards who don't have any medical experience? What if Lieutenant Hogan's heart stops beating? Without me, there is no one to treat him on his way to the hospital. Do you really want to be responsible for his possible death?"

Klink's gaze shifted from Wilson to Jout, who lied motionless on the floor of the truck bed, two young guards next to him. He bid his lip and eventually sighed. "Alright, you can go with him. But only you."

Wilson nodded, and Klink went to the front of the truck, telling Corporal Schneider to start the engine. The young corporal complied, driving as fast as he dared, fearing that if he went too fast, he might add more injuries to Jout's body, and that if he went too slow, Jout might die on the way.

The prisoners watched the truck leaving, their hearts full of worry. LeBeau had slipped an arm around Newkirk's body in an effort to give him some sort of support. The Brit tried his hardest to suppress the tears he felt were welling up in him as he feared that he might have seen his boyfriend alive for the last time.

Hogan was the first one to avert his gaze from the front gate, the truck long ago having left the camp. He turned to his team, seeing the anxious looks on their faces. He made a step forward in the direction of the barracks and said, "Come on, men! We have a lot to do."

"What do you mean, Colonel?" asked Baker.

"Well, first we have to inform London of the spy Josh discovered," Hogan declared. Standing in the doorframe, Hogan turned around once again to face his team. "And then we are going to kill Fuhrmann."


	16. Chapter 16

It was an intense drive to the hospital. Wilson had his complete concentration directed at the barely alive man lying in front of him, whose breathing was ragged and much too shallow. Every few minutes, Wilson checked on the bandage covering the stab wound in his stomach, watching with dismay how the white cloth was turning redder and redder with each passing minute. All the while, Corporal Langenscheidt and Sergeant Fischer were staring at the battered lieutenant, fearing his death. They both liked the American officer very much and to see him fighting for his life because of the torture of another German soldier made their stomach turn. Though they would never admit it to anyone, Langenscheidt and Fischer were certain that Germany was losing the war; and somehow, they both looked forward to it. The Germany of today was not the Germany they grew up in and it was not the Germany they loved. And seeing in which condition the lieutenant was only strengthened their wish for their country to be defeated.

There was a bump in the road that rattled the truck; thus making Jout moan slightly. Wilson examined the bandage around his stomach area once more and was yet again greeted by an even redder fabric. He looked up from his lower position and asked, "Corporal Langenscheidt, could you please come here and press down on the wound? We need to slow down the bleeding as much as possible."

"Of course," said Langenscheidt, who scrambled to kneel down next to Jout and began to press down on the wound, with that making Jout groan again.

Wilson saw Langenscheidt's frightened facial expression and assured, "Don't be irritated by his groans, Corporal. He might feel pain by the pressure you apply, but this pressure contributes to keeping him alive."

Langenscheidt nodded and looked down at his hands that were already coloured in a bright red, praying that they were soon arriving at the Hammelburg Hospital.

* * *

"Papa Bear calling Mama Bear. Are you there, Mama Bear?" Hogan's commanding voice rang through the radio room, breaking through the heavy silence like gun shots.

" _What can I do for you, Papa Bear_?" asked a male voice.

"I want to speak to General Gallagher. Immediately."

As Hogan waited to be connected to the American general, he quietly observed his men. All were noticeably wrapped up in worry, most prominently Newkirk. The slender Brit leant against the tunnel wall, his gaze glued to a spot on the ground. He had his hands buried in his pockets, and a close look at his face showed Hogan that Newkirk fought against upwelling tears. Hogan averted his gaze from his NCO and directed it at the radio in front of him. The dishevelled look of his second-in-command made his own worry and fear well up in him. That was something Hogan tried to lock away for the moment, keeping his mind concentrated on his anger and hatred for Fuhrmann. If he would let his fear for his young brother get the better of him, Hogan knew he would not be functional. And right now, he needed to be strong for Josh and his team.

There was a clicking sound coming from the radio which turned everyone's attention to the device that connected them to London. " _Here is General Gallagher speaking. What can I do for you, Papa Bear_?"

"General, are you alone in the room?" Hogan asked.

There was some shuffling heard, and then General Gallagher said, " _I am now. What's the reason for this secretiveness_?"

Hogan briefly looked at his men before he answered. "General, _Golden Eagle_ was held captive by the Gestapo the last couple of days. Today he was brought back, barely alive. Now he is on his way to the hospital, but before he went he used his last strength to inform me of a spy he discovered. And the spy is no one else than your aide Captain John Stewart."

There was a short silence. Then they heard the general exclaiming, " _You must be kidding, Papa Bear! I trust Captain Stewart with my life. What gives Golden Eagle that idea_?"

"The Gestapo major who tortured him knew about our abusive father; something that does not stand in his or my records. He told me that the only one who knows about it is Captain Stewart." There was again a silence, which made Hogan wonder if General Gallagher was believing him. Therefore he said, "General, I know that you trust your aide, but my brother used the little amount of strength he could muster after being tortured for days by the Gestapo to tell me of this spy. He would not have done that if there was even the slightest doubt about his discovery."

The silence continued for a little while longer before General Gallagher said, " _Alright, Papa Bear. I believe you. The only one I trust more than Captain Stewart is Golden Eagle, and if he says that my aide is a spy, my aide is a spy. Don't worry, I will take care of the matter_."

Hogan sighed in relief. "Thank you, General. Could you do me the favour and give us a call as soon as you took care of him?"

" _Will do, Papa Bear. But only if you give a call as soon as you have news on Golden Eagle's health status_."

"Will do, General. Papa Bear out," answered Hogan while he gave Baker a sign to cut the connection. He sat the microphone down on the table and looked up at his men around him. He took a deep breath before saying, "And now we are going to kill Fuhrmann."

"But Colonel. How are we going to do this?" asked Carter.

"Yeah," agreed LeBeau. "I mean, we can't just go to Gestapo Headquarters and shoot Fuhrmann; as much as I love the thought."

"The Gestapo will know who is behind Fuhrmann's death if we kill him right after he brought Jout back," stated Baker. "I think it's too risky."

"If ya cowards don't want to do it, just let me escape. I will show that bastard what sufferin' means. With 'at no one suspect anyone of ya guys."

Everyone turned around to face Newkirk. He slowly raised his gaze, his eyes now full of anger. It frightened his friends. Never in all those years that they had known the Brit, have they ever seen such a dangerous look in his eyes.

"You won't take the pleasure away of killing him on your own," said Hogan. "I want to be there. And no one will suspect us, trust me."

LeBeau stared at his commanding officer in amazement. That was another first. Normally, Hogan was never this eager to kill a person; he always tried to find other solutions, and only did he eliminate someone if it was absolute necessary. But now, the calm officer sounded extremely bitter and revengeful. LeBeau did not blame him. If one of his siblings had been tortured like this, not knowing whether they survived, he would kill the one responsible too.

"What's your plan, _mon Colonel_?" asked LeBeau, his earlier doubts washed away. He trusted Hogan, and the American officer had always found a way to succeed, so today would not be an exception.

"First of all, we will need the help of the underground, that's for sure." He looked at Baker. "Baker, isn't Tiger in town?"

The radio man nodded. "She is currently preparing some joined sabotage operation with the Hammelburg underground."

"Good. I want you to radio her and tell her that she needs to meet me here as soon as possible," Hogan ordered. Baker nodded once again, and then Hogan continued. "If we want that no one suspects us, we have to be in camp and watched by the guards while Fuhrmann disappears. Tiger and her group will kidnap Fuhrmann and bring him into our tunnels. There I will have a little talk with him, and in the end, Tiger will make sure that his body will not be found."

Apparently, Carter was also concerned by Hogan's change in morality, because he raised his hand and asked, "Ahem…Colonel. Are you sure you want to do this?"

Hogan stared at the young sergeant, his facial expression unreadable. "Are you questioning my orders, Sergeant?" he asked in a low voice.

"No, Colonel, I would never – I mean – it's just that…" Carter stammered.

"We are simply concerned, _mon Colonel_ ," LeBeau helped Carter out. "Usually, you are not the person who kills someone cold-blooded. You always try to avoid it until it's no longer avoidable." LeBeau lowered his glance. "That's not you who is currently talking, Sir. And it scares us."

Now Hogan simply stared at the small Frenchman, the radio room once again filled with a tensed silence. After minutes of not saying anything, Hogan began to slowly nod. "You are right, LeBeau; I usually try to avoid that. But my brother was hurt by this bastard and might not survive it. So, you don't have to be around when he is here. Fuhrmann will learn the lesson of his life; and it will be his last." The American colonel directed his glance back at Baker and said, "I want to meet Tiger as soon as possible."

"Sure, Colonel," mumbled Baker as he put his headset on.

Hogan left the radio room without saying another word, leaving his men behind; three of them were concerned, one of them was fuming with rage.

* * *

After what seemed like an eternity for Wilson, they finally arrived at the Hammelburg Hospital. As soon as he stopped the truck, Corporal Schneider jumped out of the vehicle and ran into the building to get the staff outside. Sergeant Fischer also left the back of the truck and positioned himself next to it, to keep the impression of guarding the medic. He of course knew that the American medic would never escape, not when his patient's life was hanging on the line, but still, the other people around them had to think they were actually guarding him. Corporal Langenscheidt still had his hands pressed on Jout's wound, terrified beyond belief that if he moved just one inch, the American lieutenant might die under his hands.

"Corporal Langenscheidt," Wilson began as he crawled to Jout's stomach wound. "I want you to remove your hands on the count of three. Alright?"

Langenscheidt nodded, and when Wilson was kneeling opposite of him, the medic said, "One…two…three!"

Langenscheidt removed his hands as quickly as possible while at the same time, Wilson started to apply pressure on the wound. The change of pressure barely elicited any kind of reaction from Jout besides a quiet moan, which worried Wilson. This absence of reaction meant that Jout was slipping further and further away from him, and once he would reach unconsciousness, there was a great chance he would never again open his eyes.

Langenscheidt climbed hastily out of the back of the truck and positioned himself next to Sergeant Fischer. While they waited for the hospital staff, he looked down on his hands, which were covered in a bright red.

Fischer saw the frightened look on the corporal's face and softly said, "Don't worry, Karl. Everything will be alright. And as soon as Lieutenant Hogan is admitted to the hospital, we will search for a restroom so you can wash your hands, alright?"

Langenscheidt nodded, but Fischer's attention was drawn away by the approach of different voices. He turned around to see his fellow comrade Corporal Schneider as well as a doctor and two nurses.

"Where is the patient?" asked the doctor immediately after arriving at the truck.

Fischer pointed with his thumb behind him and said, "In the back."

The doctor swiftly walked to the back of the truck and stopped when he saw what appeared to be an American soldier huddling over another one of his comrades. He quickly discarded the thought that the two men he was looking at were considered his enemies and said, "Doctor Werner Edling my name. What happened to him?"

Wilson looked up from Jout and answered, "Sergeant Joe Wilson, medic of Luft-Stalag 13. This here is Lieutenant Joshua Hogan and he has multiple wounds in his face, upper body, abdomen, and knee. He is barely conscious and I fear that he could die every second."

"Then I think it's best we get him inside," Doctor Edling declared, waving at the nurses to come closer with the stretcher. He moved closer to the truck bed and grabbed Jout's feet while instructing, "Sergeant Wilson, grab his upper body and together we lay him carefully onto the stretcher."

Wilson stopped applying pressure on Jout's stomach and crawled to his head, sliding his arms under Jout's shoulder blades, always careful to not damage the lieutenant's broken collar bone any further. Ever so gently, the two men lifted Jout up and laid him down on the stretcher. Immediately after Jout had been laid onto the stretcher, the two nurses began to push it inside the hospital building. Wilson jumped down from the truck bed and together with the three guards he followed the doctor and the nurses inside. They brought him into one of the treatment rooms in the emergency department and laid him on the bed.

Edling removed the stethoscope that hang around his neck and used it to listen to Jout's breathing. When he looked up he saw Wilson and the three guards standing in the room. "Everyone out, except Sergeant Wilson."

"Sorry, Doctor, no can do," Fischer said. "We have orders to never leave a prisoner alone in a room."

"I understand those orders, Sergeant, but we are in a hospital. I need to have quiet to treat the patient as well as Sergeant Wilson's knowledge of the wounds. You can stand in front of the room, but you need to leave. Now!"

Fischer nodded and left the room with the two other guards.

Edling turned his attention back to Jout, pressing two of his fingers on his neck to check for a pulse. "Sergeant Wilson, can you give me a report on his wounds?"

"Cut underneath the hairline, burns on his temples and chest resulting from electric shocks, a broken nasal bone, left and right shoulder dislocated and already put back, right collar bone broken, both wrists incised, stab wounds in his left hand and stomach, and a bullet wound in his left knee," Wilson explained.

Edling looked up from Jout, his facial expression betraying his shock. "Electric shocks? Stab wounds? Bullet wound? What on earth happened to him?"

"The Gestapo," was all Wilson said.

Edling merely nodded without asking further questions. He took a closer look at Jout's stomach wound, removing the bandage. Instantly blood spurted out. "Mhm, seems like his inferior vena cava has been scratched. No wonder his heart rate is awfully weak."

Edling's attention was drawn away from the stomach wound when he heard small groans coming from his patient. Wilson instantly stepped closer to the bed and laid a hand on Jout's left arm. "Lieutenant Hogan, you're in the hospital right now. Everything will be alright now; a doctor is here to treat you."

Jout's groans grew louder, now accompanied by him writhing underneath Wilson's touch. His eyelids fluttered for quite some time before he finally managed to open his eyes. The first thing his tired eyes saw was an unfamiliar face, which made him tense up immediately.

Edling noticed this tenseness, and said in a calm voice, "Hello, Lieutenant Hogan. My name is Werner Edling, and I'm your doctor. I promise you, I will do everything in my power to save you."

Jout gave him a small smile. "Thank you, Doctor."

The corner's of Edling's mouth raised into a smile and he said, "No need to thank me, Lieutenant. That's my job."

The German doctor looked at Wilson and said, "I will move him to the x-ray lab. There we will x-ray his right and left shoulder, his nose, his ribs, his left hand as well as his knee. Immediately after that, he will go into surgery, because his stomach wound needs immediate surgical attention. I can't wait for the x-rays to be developed before surgery, because if I do, he will be bled to death before I even get to see those pictures. The pictures just have to be brought into the operation room."

Edling loosened the breaks on the bed and pushed it out of the treatment room. Wilson followed him out of the room, but instead of going with him to the x-ray lab, he went with the guards into the waiting room. He sat down on one of the hard chairs, taking his hat of while he closed his eyes.

"Ahem, Sergeant Wilson?" he heard Fischer saying. Wilson opened his eyes again and the German guard continued, "Don't you want to wash your hands? They are covered in blood."

Wilson looked down at his red hands. "Being a medic in war time made me block out and totally forget about the blood spurting out of all those young men."

Fischer did not know what to answer, so he simply repeated his suggestion. "Why don't you go with Corporal Langenscheidt and wash your hands? He has to clean his too."

Wilson slowly nodded and rose to his feet. He put his hat back on and followed Langenscheidt to one of the hospital's restrooms, his mind a million miles away; remembering all the fine men that he had witnessed being taken away by this cruel war, hoping that he did not need to add another name to his already much too long list.

* * *

 **I added the conversation between LeBeau and Hogan about his change of behaviour, because I realize how OOC Hogan's wish to kill Fuhrmann is. But I think it goes with the storyline, since I can see Hogan forgetting about his moral views with his younger brother's life being at stake.**


	17. Chapter 17

Doctor Edling was operating on Jout for about two hours with little progress. The scratch on the inferior vena cava was much more severe than he thought; it was almost completely cut through. And sewing it back together proved to be difficult, since he had to make sure that there was no tension on the vena cava or else it could tear up again which would lead to Jout bleeding to death. What also troubled Edling was the low blood pressure of his patient. He had given him two blood transfusions, but since the hole in the vein was still existent, the blood that he had given him was already bled out again.

Suddenly, one of the nurses, Nurse Halmer, exclaimed, "Doctor, his blood pressure is dropping!"

"Dammit! It takes much longer than expected to sew the inferior vena cava back together," Edling said. He looked at one of the nurses who assisted him and ordered, "Another blood transfusion, Nurse Wiegel!"

"But Doctor, that's his third," Nurse Wiegel said.

"Doctor, his blood pressure is almost non-existent," Halmer informed him.

Edling looked at Wiegel and asked, "And what's the problem?"

Wiegel looked down at Jout and shrugged. "He's the enemy, Doctor. I think we should not waste good German blood on him."

Edling stared at the nurse who stood opposite of him, completely stunned by her words. For him, it did not matter what nationality his patients had; he was a doctor, who vowed to treat people no matter what. And not even this war could change that. After all, the regime declared Americans or Russians to be his enemy. The regime was it who decided that he should fight them, not himself. If it was for Edling, everyone would just mind their own business and live peacefully among each other. He was completely against the idea of denying the man who lay on his surgical table another blood transfusion just because he was born in a different country; who simply followed orders like anyone else.

"Out!" declared Edling.

"What?" asked Wiegel, shocked by the doctor's harsh tone.

"If you don't want to help the patient, then I don't have any use for you," Edling explained. "So, get out of my operating room."

Nurse Wiegel snorted and shook her head, but did as she was told, quickly leaving the operating room.

Edling turned to the other nurses and asked, "Anyone else who thinks we should deny the man on this table, who is currently fighting for his life, the same treatment we give to any other patient in this hospital?" The remaining nurses shook their heads, and Edling nodded. "Good. Then we shall continue." He turned to the nurse standing next to him and said, "Nurse Decker, please prepare another blood transfusion."

Nurse Decker nodded and left the table to get another blood transfusion, as Halmer yelled, "Doctor, his heart stopped beating! I can't find a pulse!"

Edling took two quick steps to his right and placed his ear on Jout's chest, listening for a heart beat or breathing; he found neither. He raised his head again and turned his head to Decker. "Forget the blood transfusion! Come here and put your fingers around the hole in his vein. I need you to block it while I revive him."

Decker complied, swiftly taking Edling's previous spot and putting her hand into Jout's stomach wound. In the meantime, Edling started chest compression, hoping he could restart the heart while at the same time trying to uphold the flow of oxygenated blood to the brain to prevent possible brain damage.

"Still nothing, Doctor," Halmer said.

Edling continued the chest compression as he whispered, "Please, Lieutenant, continue fighting. I know I promised to save your life, but you have to fight."

* * *

 _Jout awoke to tremendous pain coming from every part of his body. But instead of a Gestapo cell, he found himself lying on a white softness. When he touched it, Jout realized that he was not able to feel anything. Despite the pain he was in, Jout succeeded in standing up and he immediately scanned his surroundings. Everything around him was white, which confused him highly._

" _Hello?" Jout called out, but he received no answer._

 _Though his sense of touch was non-existent, Jout tried to sharpen his other senses. Suddenly, he was able to hear faint music in the distant. Curious and at the same time confused, Jout decided to follow the sound of the music. He walked for a while and all he could see was white. Having no idea how long he had walked, the music eventually led Jout to a big fence. Once more, he was confused, because he could see no one and nothing behind the fence; only a big golden gate which was closed._

" _Hello? Is someone here?" Jout called out again._

 _He rattled at the gate, noticing that it was locked. Out of nowhere, someone tapped him on his shoulder, making Jout jump away out of fright. He turned around and saw an unfamiliar woman standing in front of him. She had long black hair that went to the middle of her back and bright red lips. Her skin was pale, reminding him of Snow White._

" _You want to enter?" asked the woman, a slight smile circling around her red lips. "Here, I will open it for you."_

 _To Jout's amazement, the gate opened when the woman tried it. "Who are you?" he asked. "And what is behind this gate?"_

 _The woman faced Jout again and answered, "I'm Angel, and this, my dear Joshua, is Heaven."_

" _Is your name Angel, or are you one?" Jout questioned, not quite believing what the woman just said._

" _You're right with both; my name is Angel and I'm one. To be more precise, I am a guardian angel."_

 _Jout narrowed his eyes. "And where are your wings if you are an angel?"_

 _Angel began to laugh. "Only in human depictions do we have wings. Otherwise, we look just like you."_

" _Alright, suppose I believe you," Jout said. "Does this mean I am dead?"_

 _Angel shook her head. "You are barely alive, but not yet dead. You see, right now you are floating between the living world and the dead world." She pointed at the gate and explained, "But if you cross this threshold, you will die. Because then you have entered Heaven." Angel grabbed his hand and dragged him closer. "Come, follow me."_

* * *

"Doctor, there is still no pulse," Halmer informed Edling, her tone a mixture between professional calmness and emotional regret.

Undeterred, Edling continued the chest compression, which already lasted for about five minutes without getting his heart started again. But Edling would not give up; would not let another soul be taken away by the Gestapo. It had been already too much.

"Doctor Edling," Halmer said once again. "The patient has no pulse for about five minutes now. Maybe it's over and his body couldn't handle the pain anymore."

"No!" Edling shook his head, still doing the chest compression. "This man will not die; not on my watch." He looked at Halmer and said, "We have to give him another blood transfusion. Now!"

* * *

 _Jout pulled his hand away. "But I don't want to die." Just as those words had left his lips, a stinging pain hit into his stomach, making him hunch._

" _Trust me, Joshua. Heaven is marvellous. No more pain, no war, just you and people close to you that you have lost. Henri…your mother," Angel coaxed him._

" _I could…I could see my mom?" Jout asked while he leant against the fence as a throbbing started to build in his head combined with a feeling of nausea._

 _Angel smiled softly at him, stretching her hand out. "Yes, Joshua. All you have to do is follow me."_

 _The prospect of seeing his mother again pulled the part of him that missed his mother dreadfully for almost nineteen years now closer to Angel. Slowly, still unsure of leaving the living world, Jout stretched his hand out, placing it in Angel's soft palm. Her smile grew wider and she started to pull him closer when a young voice suddenly yelled, "No!"_

 _Jout turned around and saw a small boy running towards him. The boy looked awfully familiar, yet Jout had no idea who he was. The boy reached out and took Jout's other hand in his two and began to drag him in the opposite direction._

" _What are you doing?" asked Jout the small boy, his other hand still in Angel's tight grip._

" _You can't go with her!" the boy cried out. "You will die!"_

" _But I will see my mom," Jout said._

" _Please, you have to come with me," the brown-haired boy pleaded._

" _Where do you want to go?"_

" _I will show you why you have to continue fighting for your life," the boy declared, tugging at his hand with all his strength._

 _Jout looked once more at Angel, who still smiled softly at him. Then he looked back at the little boy, who tried with all his might to prevent him from going with Angel. Jout glanced back at Angel and eventually let go of her hand. He took a step towards the small boy and said, "Alright, if you are so determined, I guess I can go with you."_

 _The little boy smiled and exclaimed, "Great! Come with me!" He pulled at Jout's hand and ran in the direction he came from, dragging Jout with him._

* * *

Halmer had her fingers pressed on Jout's neck for about ten minutes now, already having given up hope that the man lying on the table in front of her would survive. But suddenly, she felt a faint beat underneath her fingertips.

"Doctor! He has a pulse!" she cried out.

Edling stopped the chest compression, completely out of breath. He moved his head down and placed his ear on Jout's chest, sighing in relief when he heard his heart beating and felt his chest rising and falling.

Edling raised his head again and swiped away the sweat that had formed on his forehead with his arm. He looked at the two nurses that were still with him and announced, "And now we quickly have to mend the hole in his inferior vena cava, because after that there is still a lot to do."

Decker, who stood next to him and blocked the hole in Jout's vein, asked, "Doctor, do you think he will wake up if he survives the operation? After all, his heart stopped beating for about ten minutes."

"I don't know, Nurse Decker," Edling admitted. "We can only hope that the chest compression provided enough oxygen for his brain to prevent brain damages."

* * *

Hogan stood in his office, gazing out of the window. He watched the leaves moving in the wind as he felt the cold breeze coming through the barracks' walls. For the past two hours, he had simply stared out the window, observing how the same guard walked along the fence, always needing exactly ten minutes to appear in front of his window again. Hogan averted his gaze from the trees behind the fence and looked down at his watch; Tiger was due to come every minute. Even though it was broad daylight, Tiger said she would come immediately after Baker informed her about the current situation at the camp.

Hogan gazed back at the trees, trying to sort out his feelings. There was of course the intense worry he felt for his brother. And then there was the joy of seeing Tiger again, though the circumstances were much less enjoyable. He had not seen her since the invasion about four months ago and really looked forward to their meeting. However, at the same time he was unsure of how their meeting would go; and not because of the thing with Fuhrmann. Now that it seemed like the war was really coming to an end soon, Hogan was not quite sure how their future would look like. His romance with Tiger was now going for about two years, and because they did not see each other often because of the war, they never talked about what would happen to them after the war. They only treasured the limited time they had together. Hogan never thought this romance would even survive two years, but lately, he found himself often picturing a lie together with Tiger in the States, maybe a couple of kids and simply living a peaceful and happy life,

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door and Baker entered. "Sir, Tiger is here."

Hogan turned to face his radio man and said, "Thank you, Baker. Sent her in here and give note when Schultz or Klink come in."

Baker nodded and closed the door. Hogan sighed and rubbed with his hands across his face, closing his eyes as he waited for Tiger to come. He looked back at the leaves as he thought about Jout again, images of his tortured body entering his mind.

Fuhrmann would pay for what he had done to his little brother, no matter what his men thought of him.

There was another knock on the door, which made Hogan turn around. In stepped Tiger, who shut the door behind her and quickly closed the distance between them, throwing her arms around his shoulders and giving him a hug. Hogan circled his own arms around her waist and pulled Tiger against his body.

"I'm sorry for what happened to your _fr_ _è_ _re_ , _mon ch_ _é_ _ri_ ," Tiger whispered into his ear. "How is he doing?"

"He's in the hospital right now," Hogan answered. "The only thing I know is that our medic said there is a great chance he will die."

Tiger disengaged from the embrace, placing her hands on his shoulders. "I'm sure everything will turn out fine. You must not loose hope, _mon ch_ _é_ _ri_!" She went over to the bunk bed and sat down on the bottom one. "But I'm sure you not called for me just to hear soothing words. What is it?"

Hogan took the stool that stood by his desk and placed it in front of Tiger, sitting down on it. "I need your help in taking revenge."

Tiger raised an eyebrow. " _Revanche_? What do you mean by that?"

"I want you and your men to kidnap Major Fuhrmann, a Gestapo officer and the one responsible for my brother's condition."

"Why do you want him to be kidnapped?" Tiger asked. She was confused by Hogan's strange wish.

Hogan looked her in the eyes and said, "I want to kill him."

"Kill him?" she questioned, not believing what she just heard. "That does not sound like you."

Hogan rose to his feet and began to pace in front of her. "Why is everyone concerned about me wanting to kill the bastard who tortured my little brother? Shouldn't you be more concerned that Josh might die?"

"I am, Rob, very much indeed. But I'm also concerned that out of the anger that you are currently feeling, you might do something that you later regret."

"Regret?" Hogan stared at Tiger, his brown eyes full of anger. "The only thing I regret is that I haven't tried harder to free Josh from the claws of this bastard. He does not deserve to live any longer when my brother might not. So, are you going to help me or not?"

Tiger returned his gaze and eventually said, "Of course I will, Rob. I just want to make sure that you are one hundred percent certain that what you are about to do will be alright with your conscience."

Hogan slowly walked back to the window and went back to watching the leaves. With his back turned to Tiger he said, "I am. Fuhrmann is going to pay for what he has done to Josh."

"When do you want me to kidnap this Major Fuhrmann?" Tiger asked after moments of silence.

Hogan turned around, closing the window's lids to make sure no guards would spot Tiger in his office. "Tonight. It's best if you bring him here after lights-out."

" _Vu_ ," Tiger answered. Standing in front of her, she looked Hogan over, seeing how tired and concerned he was. She waved him over and said, "Come here, _mon ch_ _é_ _ri_."

Hogan walked over to her and sat down next to Tiger. She lied down on the bunk and pulled him with her, placing his head on her chest. Then she began to gently drive with her fingers through his thick black hair.

Hogan closed his eyes, his right arm placed across her waist. "You have to go now," he reluctantly said, fearing that a German guard might come in and find them.

"I know," Tiger softly answered. "But a few minutes won't hurt. And I think you might need it."

Hogan nodded against her chest as he tried to concentrate on Tiger's perfume, hoping to forget the worry he felt for Jout, even it was just for a few minutes.


	18. Chapter 18

_In a blink of an eye, Jout was not surrounded by white anymore, but walked with the little boy by his side through his old neighbourhood._

" _You said you wanted to show me why I should keep on fighting," Jout began while they walked down the street of his birthplace. "But who are you that it is apparently so important for you that I live?"_

 _The young boy with the brown eyes and hair looked up at Jout and said, "I am you."_

 _Jout stopped, giving him a quizzical look. "You…are me? How come I don't recognize you?"_

" _That usually happens when someone is confronted with its juvenile self," young Jout explained. "Now that you know who I am, we can start with the journey."_

" _Which journey?" old Jout asked. "Is that why you have brought me to the place I never wanted to come back to ever again?"_

 _Young Jout nodded and turned left into Jout's old home's front yard. He walked up to the stairs and sat down on them, waiting for his older self to do the same. "The journey of your life. I will bring you back to important moments to show you how precious and wonderful your life is, and to remind you of the people you would leave behind."_

" _Shouldn't you call it 'our life'? After all, you are me," old Jout pointed out._

" _I know, but since I only witnessed seven years of it myself, I think it's more fitting to call it 'your life'," young Jout explained._

" _Alright, but if you want me to show how wonderful my life is, why have you brought me to the place I endured the most horrible things so far?"_

 _Young Jout stood up and stretched out his hand. "Because that's where everything started; the day we were born."_

* * *

After eight hours of surgery in which Doctor Edling repaired Jout's inferior vena cava, set his broken collarbone, sewed the nerves and tendons in his left hand back together and stitched the stab wound, as well as removed the bullet from his knee and tried to set the smashed knee. Now Edling was on his way to the waiting room to inform Sergeant Wilson and the guards of Jout's condition.

Immediately after he stepped into the waiting room, Wilson jumped up. The three German guards remained seated, but gazed at Edling, hoping for good news.

"How is he, Doctor?" Wilson asked.

"He's alive, but still not through," Edling said. He removed his surgical cap and explained, "Lieutenant Hogan's heart stopped beating in the beginning of the surgery, and I had to revive him for about ten minutes. "

Wilson lowered his gaze and drove with his hand through his hair.

"Will he wake up, Doctor?" asked Sergeant Fischer from his seated position.

"I don't know," Edling admitted. "I also don't know whether he will regain full function of his left hand and knee in case he wakes up. We'll just have to wait and see."

Fischer nodded and rose to his feet. "Thank you for your help, Doctor. Just give the camp a call when Lieutenant Hogan can be brought back; we will get on our way now."

Wilson opened his mouth to protest when Edling interjected, "There won't be any need for that, Sergeant. I only want to watch him for the next hour, and then I will have an ambulance bring him back. So you can wait for him and drive back together."

"Are you sure it's good if we move him this soon?" Wilson asked, not really pleased by the doctor's plan.

"Under any other circumstance, I would have suggested to keep him here for as long as he is unconscious. But since the Gestapo is responsible for his wounds, I want him back in your camp as fast as possible. We can't protect him in here; you can," Edling explained. "Besides, Lieutenant Hogan is currently in a coma. It doesn't matter whether I watch over him or you do, because if his heart stops beating again, the only thing I could do is chest compression. And that is something you can do as well. This means the safest place for the lieutenant is back in your camp."

Wilson nodded. "Alright, Doctor. Thank you very much for your effort; especially for treating him regardless of his nationality."

Edling waved off. "No thanks needed for that. I'm a doctor, Sergeant. It goes without saying that I treat every patient that comes in here the best I can."

Wilson gave him a smile and sat down on one of the hard chairs again, waiting for the remaining hour to pass so that he could bring Jout back into camp.

* * *

 _Young Jout snapped his fingers, and suddenly they were not outside anymore, but in a room. Old Jout looked around and recognized it as his parent's bedroom. He felt someone tugging at his hand and looked down at his younger self. Young Jout pointed to the bed, and old Jout followed his finger. On the bed sat his mother looking totally exhausted, her damp light brown hair shining in the wintry midday sun shining through the window. She smiled down at the small bundle she held in her arms, wrapped up in a light blue blanket. She rocked the bundle gently, whispering words of love while stroking the little baby's face._

" _Can she see me?" old Jout ask without taking his gaze off the scene in front of him._

 _Young Jout shook his head. "No, we are only spectators. But you can go around and do what you wish."_

 _Old Jout watched his mother rocking the bundle for a little while longer, before he slowly walked up to her bed. He was moving extremely carefully, overwhelmed by what he saw. When he reached the bed, he looked at the baby in the bundle who looked completely content in its mother arms, its chocolate brown eyes gazing up at its mother._

 _He turned his head and looked at his younger self. "Is that me?"_

 _Young Jout smiled at him and nodded his head. "About ten minutes after you've been born."_

 _Old Jout looked back at his mother, who smiled lovingly at her son and said, "My sweet son, I know you have no idea what I am saying to you right now, but I still want to tell you some important things you need to know." The baby stretched his hand out, and his mother stretched out her index finger, which he grabbed. "Not everything that will happen to you in your life will be great; not everyone that you will meet has good things in its mind. There will be bad days, days you just want to curl up and cry. But you have to know one thing: for as long as I live, I will do everything in my power to protect you from anyone or anything that wants to harm you." She drove with her finger through the few hairs that already covered her son's head. "I don't want to frighten you. Life is wonderful; there are just some dark sides to it. But never forget: Optimism is the key to good outcomes."_

 _Some tears started to run down old Jout's cheeks upon hearing those sweet words from his mother. Considering what he had to endure in his life, he knew that at least one of the people who his mother talked about that wanted to harm him was his own father. He felt how young Jout gave him a hug around his legs, which made him look down._

" _Don't cry," young Jout said. "I don't like to see you sad." A small smile appeared on old Jout's face as he wiped away his tears. Young Jout returned the smile and pointed at the door. "Look who is coming."_

 _Old Jout turned around and saw how the door opened. In came another boy, who had black hair and the same brown eyes as himself. He looked back at his mother, who smiled at the other boy and waved him over. The boy ran towards her and climbed onto the bed._

" _Say hello to your little brother, Rob," his mother said as she held the bundle so that the other boy was able to see his face._

" _That's Rob?" old Jout asked unbelieving. "How come I recognize my mom, but not Rob?"_

" _I don't know," young Jout replied. "Some people you recognize, some you don't. That's just how it is."_

 _Old Jout nodded and went back to watch the scene in front of him._

 _Eleven-year-old Rob carefully stroked across his brother's forehead and asked, "What is his name?"_

" _Well, how do_ _ **you**_ _want to call him?" asked his mother._

 _Rob looked at her with big eyes. "I can choose a name?" His mother smiled at him and nodded, and Rob began to think. After a moment, he gave her a broad smile and said, "What about Joshua?"_

" _Joshua? I like that name." His mother rocked the bundle softly and announced, "Welcome to this world, Joshua Patrick Hogan."_

" _Why Patrick?" Rob asked._

" _That was the name of my father, your grandfather."_

" _Aha." Rob gazed at his little brother and questioned, "Can I hold him?"_

 _His mother nodded. She placed her newly born son in the arms of her first born and instructed, "Be careful with his head. Make sure that you always support it with your arm." While she watched her oldest son lovingly holding her youngest son, she said, "You are a big brother now, Rob. With that comes a lot of responsibility."_

 _Rob looked at her, a questioning expression on his face. "What kind of responsibility?"_

" _As his big brother, you have to look out for him," his mother began to explain. "You have to protect him from bullies or anyone else who wants to harm him. And you know why?" Rob shook his head. "Because he will look up to you. He will want to be like you, so you must act like a role model. Always be polite, respectful, and honourable." His mother looked young Rob deep in the eyes. "At times he will get on your nerves, and you will be angry at him, but never forget that you will be his hero, and that he will just want to be like you. Alright?"_

 _Rob nodded and looked down at his baby brother, lying happily in his arms. Still looking at his young brother, Rob vowed, "I promise to look out for him, Mom. I will be the best big brother imaginable."_

 _Old Jout averted his gaze and stared at his younger self, totally stunned and amazed by what he had observed moments ago. "Rob gave me my name? I never knew," he mumbled._

" _As a teenager, he was too wrapped up in trying to shield you from your father's abuse to think back to that peaceful moment," young Jout explained. "And as adults, he doesn't want to remember that moment because he thinks he failed you; you and your mother."_

 _Old Jout shook his head. "He didn't fail me; neither has he failed our mother. I know that he left me with our father, but he was more of child himself at that time. And ever since we met again in the POW camp, he looks out for me the whole time."_

" _And that's why you have to survive. To tell him that," young Jout said. "Because he will blame himself for what happened to you. And if you died, he would never forgive himself."_

 _Jout did not say anything for a while, too many things going on in his mind. Eventually, he looked down at his younger self and asked, "Alright. What's the next moment you want to show me?"_

" _The day our mother died."_

* * *

Hogan stood by the stove and poured himself another cup of coffee while the rest of his team sat at the common table, each staring into their own cups. The other occupants were lying in their bunks, doing what they always did after roll call.

"Colonel, when will Tiger come with Fuhrmann?" Carter asked.

"Sometime after lights-out," Hogan answered. "I don't know the exact time, so we'll just have to wait and see."

The barracks fell silent again, everyone wrapped up in their own thoughts and worries that mainly concerned the absent lieutenant of their barracks.

It was Carter who broke the silence once more. "Wilson is still in the hospital. I hope that's a good sign."

"Klink said the last information he had was that Josh was still in surgery. Which means he is still alive," Hogan explained.

Just as Carter wanted to say something further, the door opened, and Wilson entered who said, "Bring him in the Colonel's quarters. The privacy is better for his recovery."

Newkirk jumped off his stool as soon as he saw Jout being brought in on a stretcher. He followed Langenscheidt and Schneider, who sat down the stretcher next to the bunk bed and carefully lifted Jout on the bottom bunk. They left as quickly as they came, leaving Hogan and his men in his quarters with Wilson. Newkirk knelt down by his boyfriend's head, taking in his frightening appearance: his skin was almost white and his face was sunken. The beard on his cheeks combined with the bruise around Jout's right eye made him look completely dishevelled. To Newkirk, he looked so fragile that he was afraid to break him if he touched him.

"How is he, Wilson?" Hogan asked, who stood behind Newkirk.

Wilson put the pillow he got from Doctor Edling under Jout's left knee to support it. "The doctor who operated on him said he is stable, but not yet through." He turned to face Hogan and said, "His heart stopped beating during the surgery. He had to be revived for about ten minutes."

Newkirk, who brushed a few strands of brown hair from his boyfriend's forehead, asked, "When will 'e wake up?"

"I don't even know **if** he wakes up," Wilson answered. Then he took a deep breath. "Lieutenant Hogan is in a coma right now, resulting from the oxygen deficiency when his heart stopped beating. No one knows how much his brain was damaged; we just have to wait and see. But there is a good chance he might not wake up. And even if he does, it can be that he will not be the person he used to be. Other than that, it can be that his left hand and knee have lost some of their functionality."

The amount of devastating news shocked the men in the room. As Wilson grabbed the military-issued blanket to put it over Jout, Newkirk said, "Stop!" and left the room. He came back seconds later with the soft blue and yellow blanket he had tailored for his boyfriend and carefully covered Jout with it.

He turned to Wilson and said, " 'e will like this more than the scratchy one."

Wilson nodded and announced, "I will come tomorrow after roll call to check on him."

The medic left the small room, leaving the other men behind. Hogan gazed down at his little brother and had a hard time holding back his tears. But he knew he could not break out in tears; not now. So he closed his eyes while trying to calm himself down with deep breaths. When he opened his eyes again he said, "Let's give him some peace and quiet to rest."

"I won't leave 'is side, gov'nor," Newkirk declared while continuing to stroke across Jout's forehead.

"Alright." Hogan went to the door and ushered the three other men out of the room. He looked one more time at his younger brother and his boyfriend, and this sight confirmed Hogan in one thought: Fuhrmann would not survive the night.


	19. Chapter 19

_They stepped out his mother's bedroom and slowly walked down the hallway._

" _What do you remember of the day our mother died?" young Jout asked._

" _Everything," old Jout answered. "I remember how I was sitting at the table in our kitchen, drawing a picture while Mom was preparing dinner. She came over to see what I was drawing, and gave me a kiss on my head, ruffling my hair slightly. It was the last time she kissed me. Then she went back to the oven, and seconds later, she collapsed." Tears were starting to run down Jout's cheeks, which he quickly wiped away. "I went over to her and shook her lifeless body, but she did not react. I was confused yet at the same time afraid, and ran out to the backyard, where Rob sat underneath a big tree, doing his homework. I told him what happened, and he rushed to the kitchen. I don't know what happened after that, because he sent me to my room."_

 _Young Jout nodded and opened a door to their right. "Yeah, here you are."_

 _Old Jout entered the room, seeing that it was his old bedroom. He saw his three-year-old self lying on his bed, facing the wall. He had his teddy bear tightly pressed to his chest, and old Jout could see dried tears on his cheeks._

" _And do you remember this moment?" young Jout asked, watching how his older self stared at the boy in the bed._

" _I do." Jout walked over to the bed, observing the little boy closely. "Every moment, Rob will come in and try to comfort me." He glanced at his younger self that had taken him on this journey and said, "It's one of the moments I still dream about sometimes. I never felt so close to him."_

 _He heard how the door handle was pushed down and looked up. The door opened and in came fourteen-year-old Rob, who closed the door behind him. He was dresses in black pants and in a red and black plaid shirt that he had gotten from their mother for his birthday a month prior. As old Jout watched how Rob slowly moved closer to the bed, he could clearly see the pain and sorrow over their mother's death in his face: his brown eyes were glazed over with water and dried tears covered his cheeks too._

 _Rob sat down on the bed, facing his brother's back. "How are you feeling, Josh?"_

 _Jout did not answer, only tightened his grip on his teddy bear._

 _Rob sighed, and lied down on the bed, laying his arm around his younger brother and holding him close. "It's alright to be sad, Josh. We lost our mother today; there's nothing wrong with grieving."_

" _Not even when she's gone because of me?" Jout's voice was barely above a whisper._

 _Rob turned him around asked, "Why should you be blamed for Mom's death?"_

 _Jout lowered his glance, staring at the buttons of his older brother's shirt to avoid his gaze. With his teddy tightly held under his chin, Jout began to cry._

 _Rob wrapped his arm around his brother again and pulled him against his chest. Jout shook in his arms, and he gently rubbed his back in an effort to calm his brother down. "Ssh, everything is going to be alright. Whatever you think you have done, it is not your fault that Mom is not with us anymore. You don't have to cry, Josh."_

 _Minutes of crying went by, before the sobs eventually died down. Rob continued to hold his brother close and stroked his back. When Jout had calmed down, Rob asked again. "Why do you think you have anything to do with our mother's death?"_

 _In a small voice, his head buried in his brother's chest, Jout said, "Yesterday, I didn't clean my room. Mom got angry and yelled at me, shouting that she is annoyed by me never tidying up my room. So I figured that she left us because of me."_

" _Oh, Josh, don't you think that," Rob said as he rolled on his back, moving his little brother on his chest. Once again, he held him close and drove with his fingers through his ruffled brown hair. "You have to know, Mom has not chosen to leave us. She died. Which means that she is in Heaven now, watching over us. And it had nothing to do with you not cleaning your room."_

 _Jout looked up at him and asked, "Are you sure?"_

 _Rob nodded. "Yes."_

" _But what am I doing now? Mom always said, she would look out for me and if anything troubled me, I could always come to her. How am I gonna do that when she is not here anymore?"_

" _You will come to me," Rob declared. "I will look out for you and protect you. And if anything troubles you, no matter what, you talk to me."_

" _Really?" Jout still had a tight grip around his teddy bear as he stared at his older brother, his eyes a mixture of sadness and relief._

 _Rob gave him a smile; the biggest he could manage at such a sorrowful time. "Of course! I'm your big brother, Josh. It's my responsibility to look out for you."_

 _Comforted by his brother's words, Josh rested his head on his chest and closed his eyes, eventually falling asleep in Rob's arms. At the same time, Rob felt a twinge to his heart upon using the words his mother said to him on the day of Jout's birth. Now he had to prove to his mother that he was a responsible big brother. And he wouldn't let her down._

* * *

One hour after lights-out, Rob was sitting in his quarters with Newkirk as they watched over the unconscious Jout. The fact that his heart had stopped beating during the surgery had them worried, and they decided that he would always be watched; in case it might happen again. Newkirk sat by Jout's head, his hand placed on his boyfriend's right hand which lay on his chest. His right arm was in a sling to keep it still for the broken collar bone to heal.

Seeing his battered brother lying unconscious in his bunk, fighting for his life, filled Hogan with an amount of fear and anger he had never felt before. But this sight also made him realize why he was so eager to kill Fuhrmann: he wanted revenge. However, not only because Fuhrmann tortured Jout. No, Hogan realized that the form of his hurt brother reminded him of their abusive father beating the living daylights out of them. And since he never got around to take revenge on their father, his pent-up anger made him want to take revenge on Fuhrmann.

A faint knock on the door took Hogan out of his thoughts. He and Newkirk turned their heads to the door and watched how Carter entered the small room.

"Colonel," Carter started. "Tiger is here. She is waiting for you in the tunnel."

Hogan nodded, slowly rising from his seat. He went to the door before turning around and asking, "Newkirk, do you want to join me?"

Newkirk looked back at Jout, giving his hand a tender squeeze. Then he stood up and said, "Ya can be bloody sure about 'at, gov'nor."

"Alright." Hogan turned to Carter and ordered, "Stay with him. If something is wrong, get me."

Carter nodded and together with Newkirk, Hogan left his office. Quiet as a mouse, the two men walked across the main room and climbed down the ladder to the tunnel. As they reached the radio room, they were greeted by the sight of Tiger and two of her men, who held Fuhrmann firm. The face of the Gestapo major was covered by a bag. Hogan tilted his head in the direction of one of the abandon tunnel sections, and the two men dragged Fuhrmann in the direction of which Hogan went.

Arriving in the tunnel section, Hogan nodded and one of the men pulled the bag away from Fuhrmann's head. There was blood running down the major's temple and he had a split lip. He blinked a few times after the bag was removed from his head, but as soon as he spotted Hogan standing in front of him, he gave the American colonel an evil grin.

"I knew it," Fuhrmann said triumphantly. "I knew you are Papa Bear. How is your dear brother doing? I hope he is fine."

Hogan took a step forward, now standing right in front of Fuhrmann. "He is fighting for his life, thanks to you."

He lunged out and gave Fuhrmann a blow to his stomach, making the German soldier slump down. Fuhrmann was being held upright by Tiger's men, and he started coughing.

Hogan stepped back and ordered, "Tie his hands together."

Tiger's men complied, and then walked over to Tiger. She led the men back to the radio room, whispering to Hogan as she walked past him, "I'm nearby if you need me. Just remember: you're an honourable man. Don't do something that you will regret."

She left the tunnel section and with that, Hogan and Newkirk were alone with Fuhrmann. The Gestapo major straightened himself and asked, "What do you want to do with me?"

"Kill you," Hogan answered. "But not before we gave you a bit of your own medicine."

Fuhrmann began to laugh. "Oh, my dear Colonel Hogan. I can't believe how naïve you are. Do you really think the Gestapo won't make the connection when you kill me right after your brother was brought back to your camp?"

Now it was Hogan's turn to give Fuhrmann a broad grin. "I have thought about that. That's why you were kidnapped while my men had a work assignment that I observed. This means plenty of guards can testify that we were with them while you were kidnapped. And just as a bonus: during the work assignment, a Gestapo captain drove by and stopped to talk to one of the guards. I was right next to him. So even your own colleague can testify that I was not able to kidnap you."

For a split second, fear was showing in Fuhrmann's face. But he quickly regained his composure and gave him a sardonic grin. "Well, since it seems I won't leave this tunnel alive, why hold back? You know, Colonel Hogan, out of all my prisoners, I had the most fun with your brother. He is such a stubborn man, and no matter what I did to him, he kept his mouth shut. It was a delight torturing him. Sadly, I was not able to crack him."

Out of the corner of his eye, Hogan saw something blue flying past him that crashed into Fuhrmann, sending the German major down on his back. It was Newkirk, who sat on Fuhrmann and bashed him into his face.

"Shut –" _bash_. "Yer –" _bash_. "Ruddy –" _bash_. "Mouth –" _bash_.

Hogan pulled Newkirk off of Fuhrmann and pushed him back. "It's enough, Newkirk."

Newkirk shook his right hand, his knuckles covered in red. "Barely enough for what 'e's done to Josh if ya ask me."

Hogan hauled Fuhrmann up and pushed him against the tunnel wall. There was blood coming from his nose and mouth, and there was a cut on his cheek. Fuhrmann coughed and spit blood on the ground before he said, "Your corporal has a very short fuse, Colonel Hogan."

"You deserved every punch; if not more," Hogan said. "Watch him, Newkirk. I'll be back in a second."

Hogan left the tunnel section, heading for the room where they stored their guns. He would bring it to an end now. On his way to the storage room, Hogan passed the radio room, stopping in his tracks when his gaze landed on Tiger, who sat by the radio, her face full of worry. Suddenly, her words from earlier rang through his mind.

" _You're an honourable man. Don't do something that you will regret."_

Those words reminded him of his mother: the day Jout was born, she told him to always act honourable because Jout would look up to him because he was his big brother. And for the first time since he had decided to kill Fuhrmann, Hogan thought about what Jout would say about his plan if he was conscious. Jout would be disappointed in him. He was not someone who took another person's life out of sheer revenge. Everyone thought of him as an honourable man. Jout, Tiger, his men. If he went through with his plan and killed Fuhrmann, he would disappointed so many people. And that was something he could not do.

Hogan shook his head and looked around the corner. "Tiger, will you and your men please follow me?"

Tiger looked at him, puzzled by his wish, but complied. She rose to her feet and followed Hogan to the abandon tunnel section, expecting to see a dead Fuhrmann. However, when she arrived she saw him leaning against the wall, looking pretty much beaten up.

Hogan stopped next to Newkirk and said, "Take him with you. I will call tomorrow, giving you the exact time when a submarine will come to pick him up."

"Ya want to send 'im to England?" Newkirk exclaimed, totally outraged. " 'e does not deserve to live! 'e belongs in a grave!"

"Are we getting cold feet, Colonel?" Fuhrmann laughed. "I knew you were not man enough to do it."

"This has nothing to do with not being man enough. It has something to do with honour; a trait you do not possess. I won't kill you. Instead I will arrange for you to be sent to England, where you will be put in a POW camp and probably put to trial for atrocities. That's the kind of punishment people like you deserve."

He motioned at Tiger to bring Fuhrmann away. Her men grabbed Fuhrmann and dragged him down the tunnel in the direction of the exit. Before she left, Tiger flashed him a small smile, showing him that he did the right thing.

When she was out of earshot, Newkirk exclaimed, "I still can't believe ya let 'im live, gov'nor! 'ave ya forgotten what 'e did to Josh?"

Hogan turned to Newkirk and said, "I have not. But have you thought about what Josh will say when he wakes up and learns that we killed someone? He will be disappointed in us for doing the same thing the Gestapo does; killing other people cold-blooded."

"Ya mean **if** 'e wakes up!" Newkirk yelled. "Already forgotten 'at Wilson said 'e might not wake up? Or 'at 'e might not be the same if 'e wakes up?"

"That's something I have also not forgotten," Hogan sighed. "But do you remember what I told you a few days ago? My mom always said, " _Optimism is the key to good outcomes_ ". And that's what I do: I think positive and do not worry about things I can't change." He stepped closer and placed a hand on Newkirk's shoulder. "Peter, I learned two things from my mom. First, to always think positive. And second, to always act polite, respectful, and honourable. For a few exceptions, I have always lived up to that. And I won't stop now."

After a few seconds, Newkirk began to slowly nod. "I'm just so worried for 'im, gov'nor. The fear of 'im never wakin' up again makes me goin' round the bend."

"I understand you, Peter. I feel the same." Hogan stepped away from him and suggested, "Let's go back upstairs. I'm sure you want to spend the night by Josh's bedside."

"Ya can be sure about 'at, Colonel." Newkirk followed him to the ladder which led into the barracks and said, "No matter what, I won't leave 'is bedside till 'e wakes up or dies."


	20. Chapter 20

_Young Jout snapped his fingers again, and in a flash, the two Jout's stood in another room. Old Jout recognized it as Rob's old bedroom. What shocked him most was when his gaze landed on the bed, he saw Rob lying on it while he cried, his face covered in blood_

" _What happened to him?" old Jout exclaimed._

" _It's the first time he was beaten by our father," young Jout answered. "It's about two months after our mother's death."_

 _Old Jout stared at his younger self and shouted, "Take me away from here! I don't want to relive this moment!"_

 _But young Jout shook his head. "I can't do this. It's an important moment in your life."_

" _Alright, I have understood it. First day Rob has been beaten up by our father. Checked. Now, can we please leave?" old Jout pleaded. He really had no interest in repeating this particular day._

" _We have to wait a few minutes. This day was an important moment in your relationship with your brother; one of the people you would leave behind when you die."_

 _Old Jout wanted to interject; however, the door opened and in crept his three-year-old self, holding a cloth in one hand and in the other one his teddy bear._

" _Rob?" he asked, his voice a small whisper._

 _It was loud enough to get Rob's attention. He instantly stopped crying and wiped with his sleeve across his face, trying to get rid of as much blood as possible. He sat upright and asked, "Yes, Josh? Anything I can do for you?"_

 _Jout walked over to the bed and climbed onto it with the help of his brother. "Are you alright?"_

" _Of course I am," Rob lied, giving his young brother a broad smile. "Why shouldn't I be?"_

" _Well, you are bleeding," Jout pointed out. "I was worried that you were hurt."_

" _Oh, no, I'm fine," Rob waved off. "Just cut myself while shaving." He really hoped his brother would buy his lie. He did not want to frighten him; making him fear their father. Not as long as they had to live with him. He would simply protect Jout and make sure he was the only one their father laid hands on; after all, he had at least a chance of fighting him back._

 _Jout looked like he doubted him, but did not ask further. He stretched his hand out which held the cloth. "Here. I thought you might need it."_

 _Rob took the cloth and gave his brother another smile. "Thank you, Josh. That's really considerate of you." He began to wash across his face, seeing that the cloth quickly turned bright red._

" _What does considerate mean?" Jout asked._

" _It means being far-sighted or thoughtful," Rob answered. "You see, you saw me bleeding and thought that I might want to clean my face. That was very thoughtful of you, little brother." He accompanied the last remark with a ruffle through Jout's brown hair._

 _Jout laughed and tried to dodge his brother's movement. When Rob finally stopped, Jout climbed on Rob's lap and gently touched one of the slight bruises that already started to appear. It made Rob wince, and Jout asked concerned, "Is it hurting?"_

" _Just a bit," Rob answered as he steadied Jout by his hips. "Nothing you need to worry about."_

 _Jout looked around, searching for his teddy bear. When he found it, he grabbed his favourite stuffed animal and gave it to his older brother. "When I'm hurt, I always hold him close. I immediately feel better. Do you want to borrow him until you feel better?"_

 _Rob was touched by his brother's sweet gesture; however, shook his head. "Thanks for the offer, but keep him. He is yours."_

 _But Jout was not taking no for an answer. "But I want you to have him."_

 _Rob observed him, seeing the determined look in his face. He really could call himself lucky for having such lovable brother. He placed his hands on Jout's shoulders and said, "Why don't you sleep in my bed tonight? With that we both have your teddy bear."_

 _Jout's eyes lit up and he eagerly shook his head. Rob laughed and pulled Jout closer, starting to tickle him. He knew that his brother would not say no to his offer; Jout loved to stay overnight in his room. They have done that sometimes in the past, but ever since their mother died, Jout slept in his bed almost every night. Rob could always tell when he dreamed about their mother, because he started to cry in his sleep. And that was the reason why he was not annoyed by having his little brother sleeping in his bed. With sleeping together in the same room, Rob was able to comfort Jout immediately when he began crying. And if his little brother needed to be close to him to get over their mother's death, Rob would stay as close as possible to him._

* * *

The next day, after morning roll call, Newkirk immediately went back to Jout's bedside. When Hogan arrived about ten minutes later in the barracks (Klink wanted to talk to him about Jout's condition), the other occupants had already started with breakfast; everyone except Baker, who was in the radio room, and Newkirk.

So Hogan walked into his office, closing the door behind him. "Don't you want to eat breakfast? I can stay with him."

Newkirk shook his head. "Not 'ungry, gov'nor." He had one hand placed on Jout's hand and with the other he stroked lightly across his cheek.

"Are you sure, Peter?" Hogan asked, a slight hint of concern in his voice. "You haven't eaten for two days now."

"I'm fine, Colonel," Newkirk said. "Just not feelin' 'ungry. 'at's all."

Before Hogan could say anything further, the door was opened and in stepped Baker, Carter, and LeBeau.

"Colonel, message from Tiger," Baker announced as he handed Hogan a blue piece of paper.

Hogan read the message and then he looked up at Newkirk. "Fuhrmann is dead."

Newkirk, who had turned around to face Hogan, turned back to Jout and muttered, "Thank goodness."

"But how?" LeBeau asked. "I thought you ordered to send Fuhrmann to England, _mon Colonel_?"

"She says Fuhrmann tried to escape and one of her men shot him. They buried his body so that it can't be found," Hogan explained.

There was a brief silence, which was broken by Carter. "Well, I'm not really sad about that. I mean, it's always tragic when someone dies, but considering what he has done. Don't get me wrong, I didn't like the idea of you guys killing him, but still –"

"Carter!" Hogan interjected annoyed.

"Sorry, Colonel," he mumbled, lowering his gaze to the ground.

There was a knock on the door, and Hogan called, "Come in!"

The door opened and Wilson entered with his medical bag. He shut the door behind him and said, "Colonel, I'm here to check on Lieutenant Hogan."

"Sure, Wilson." Hogan stepped aside, slipping the piece of paper in his pants pocket to dispose it later. "Should we leave or can we stay?"

Wilson went over to the bunk bed and placed his medical bag next to it. "You can stay here, Colonel."

During the short conversation, Newkirk had moved a bit away from the bunk so that Wilson had enough space to work; however, he positioned himself next to the window to be still close to his boyfriend.

Wilson pulled out his stethoscope and began to listen to Jout's heart beat and breathing. "Were there any irregularities during the night?"

Hogan shook his head. "No, everything was perfectly fine. Except for him being unconscious of course."

Wilson took his time to check Jout's heart and lungs, wanting to make sure that he did not miss anything important. When he finally removed the stethoscope, he turned to Hogan and said, "His breathing is fine, as his heart beat. It's just a bit slow, but steady."

"Why do you think is it slow?" By now, Hogan had moved to his desk and sat down on the stool.

"Probably the severe blood loss. That would also explain his extreme paleness," Wilson explained while he put away the stethoscope.

"Is there anythin' ya can do about it?" Newkirk chipped in.

Wilson looked at him and said, "I think it's best if we give him a blood transfusion." Immediately after the words left his mouth, four arms stretched out to him. A laugh escaped Wilson's lips as he said, "Whoa, not so fast, guys. I first have to check for his blood type."

"It's zero positive," Hogan declared. "I can't donate; I'm A positive."

"Alright," Wilson said while he rummaged around his medical bag to find his transfusion equipment. "Is anyone of you guys zero positive?"

Newkirk raised his hand. "Me, Wilson."

Wilson pointed to the stool Newkirk had occupied the last hours, instructing, "Sit down and pull your sleeve up." While Newkirk complied, the medic asked him, "When was the last time you have eaten something?"

"About two days ago, I think. At least 'at's what the gov'nor said," Newkirk shrugged.

"Then you have to eat something first," Wilson sighed. "Or else you flake out." He turned to Hogan and said, "Colonel, you might want to round up some zero positives for eventual blood transfusions. I don't want to give him too much since he already gotten four, but just in case."

"Sure, Wilson," Hogan answered. He looked at LeBeau and ordered, "Get Newkirk something to eat. We don't want two unconscious men in this barracks."

* * *

Later that day, Newkirk still sat by Jout's side, only leaving the room for roll calls or visits to the latrine. The others left him mostly alone; only sometimes they accompanied him for a short time. As his eyes looked over the pale complexion of his boyfriend, Newkirk's heart started to hurt. Though he looked a bit rosier after the blood transfusion, Jout was still more white than anything else. And the black eye and brown beard did not help to make him look fresh and healthy. Newkirk stroked with his thumb across his boyfriend's cheek, feeling the scratchy beard stubbles. He realized it was the first time he ever for him to see Jout with a beard; the other man always made sure to shave every morning because he felt that his face was chubbier with a beard. Even though Newkirk did not mind seeing a beard on the face of the man he loved, he rose to his feet and went into the common room to fill a bowl with warm water. He wanted Jout to feel comfortable, even when he was in a coma.

When Newkirk entered the common room, no one said a thing to him. They all made sure to stay as far away from the worried Brit as possible, not wanting to aggravate him with some remark they thought not much of.

However, LeBeau raised an eyebrow upon seeing Newkirk filling a bowl in their sink. "What are you doing, _mon ami_?"

Without making eye contact with the Frenchman, Newkirk placed the bowl on the table and went to his boyfriend's footlocker to retrieve his shaving kit. "Josh never liked to have a beard, so I decided to shave him."

It might have sounded weird to anyone else who heard that explanation, but LeBeau could clearly see the worry in Newkirk's eyes and he knew that for Newkirk, shaving Jout was a mean to somehow bring himself hope. That's why he only said, "That sounds good," and continued with the preparations for dinner.

Newkirk went back into the small adjoined room, setting the bowl on a stool next to him. He took a towel from Hogan's locker and sat down on the stool he had occupied for almost a whole day now. He threw the towel on his left shoulder and gently applied the shaving cream on Jout's cheek and throat.

"I know ya never liked to 'ave a beard, luv," Newkirk said to his unconscious boyfriend to somehow get his mind of the intense worry he felt. "I thought ya might appreciate wakin' up without one." He began to carefully shave while he continued talking. "I 'ope ya like the blanket I tailored for ya. Ya know, it was the Colonel's way of distractin' me from worryin'." Newkirk chuckled. "Though me mind was a million miles away, I think I still managed to tailor a cosy blanket for ya. 'ope ya like it."

When Newkirk had finished shaving Jout, he was shocked by Jout's even more frightening appearance. His boyfriend's clean-shaven face looked more battered and sunken, a big blue bruise covering the left side of his jaw. Newkirk tenderly drove across the nasty mark and said, "Just rest for now, luv. We need ya back on yer feet as fast as possible; the barracks is not the same without ya." He stopped for a moment before continuing, "Me life is not the same without ya."


	21. Chapter 21

_They left Rob's bedroom and young Jout said, "You can choose which important moment in your life we visit next: either the first time you were beaten up or the day Rob left."_

" _Why can I choose now?" old Jout asked. "When I wanted to skip the last moment, you said that wouldn't be possible."_

 _Together they slowly sauntered down the hallway while young Jout explained, "This journey intends to show you what you have endured so far and how strong you are because of that. But the main objective is to show you who you would leave behind if you decide to stop fighting for your life. That's why you can choose between a moment that only affects you, or a moment that affects the relationship with your brother."_

 _Old Jout nodded and went silent as he thought about which moment he wanted to visit. In all honesty, he had no interest in repeating both moments, but he had to make a decision. "I choose the day Rob left."_

" _Alright," answered his younger self. He opened the door to Jout's old bedroom and motioned, "Step in."_

 _Old Jout entered the room and saw his seven-year-old self sleeping peacefully in his bed. Though it was dark, he could clearly see that the sleeping boy had a split lip, making him instantly feel angry at his father again._

" _You never said goodbye to Rob, didn't you?" The voice of young Jout took him out of his thoughts._

" _No," old Jout shook his head. "He vanished during the night, and the next morning he was simply not there anymore." He sat down on the foot of the bed and said, "I never felt more betrayed and hurt in my whole life. Rob was my big brother! I looked up to him, thought of him as a hero." Old Jout lowered his gaze. "Now that Rob was eighteen, I had hoped he would leave this place and take me with him." A sarcastic chuckle left his lips before he said, "Leaving he did. Just not with me."_

 _Young Jout watched how his older self talked about this hurtful day. It saddened him to see how defeated the older man looked. "Have you forgiven Rob for what he has done?"_

 _Old Jout raised his glance, staring at the young form in front of him for a long time while thinking about the question. "I guess I did," he eventually announced. "But it's not like I have forgive-forgiven him. That he has left me with our abusive father is something I will never forgive him. But I'm not hating him anymore, or let it stand between us. I love him as much as I did before he left me."_

" _And that's why you rather let the family be killed than betraying him?" young Jout asked._

 _Old Jout jumped from the bed, taking offence in the statement. "Do you think I made that decision flippantly? I feel terrible for being responsible for that innocent family's death, but I had no choice! I had to protect Rob, Peter, and everyone who is involved in the operation!" He drove with his hand through his umber brown hair and said, "In war, you sometimes have to make impossible decisions that are irreconcilable with your conscience to help a greater cause."_

 _From the tone of his voice and his facial expression, young Jout had the feeling that this explanation was not really intended to convince him from the ethical aspect of his decision, but more to convince himself. Young Jout raised his hands in defence and stated, "Alright, alright. No offence intended." He walked over to his older self and said, "But enough of that. Let us observe this next moment."_

 _The door to seven-year-old Jout's bedroom slowly opened, and in stepped Rob. His face showed an intense sadness as he watched his little brother sleep. While he quietly moved over to his sleeping brother, he retrieved a note from his pocket which he laid on Jout's nightstand. Rob knew it was a terrible thing to do, but he just had to leave. And he wished he could take his brother with him, but how should he take care of a child while starting a career in the military? Being totally aware of the consequences of his actions, Rob was not able to face his brother upon leaving him with their abusive father; that's why he left during the night. The note he had written for Jout did not contain much detail, since he did not know how to write down his feelings, how to explain to his little brother that he was not the hero Jout thought he was._

 _Rob bend down to give Jout a slight kiss on his head, careful to not wake him up. Walking back to the door, he grabbed his bag and looked one last time at his brother. "I'm sorry, Josh," Rob whispered. "Hopefully you can forgive me and we meet again one day."_

 _He closed the door behind him, with that sealing his little brother's fate._

* * *

Another day had passed, and Jout was still lying unconscious in Hogan's quarters. Wilson had checked on him again around midday, assuring the others that his heart beat and breathing were strong and that they just had to be patient. Nothing much happened during the day, only once did Klink called for Hogan to talk with him about disappearance of a certain Gestapo major. Newkirk spent the whole day by Jout's side again while the others mostly stayed away from him.

Now it was one hour after lights-out and Hogan waited in the tunnels for Tiger, who had announced her arrival in the morning. Right after her message had come through, Hogan left the camp for a quick visit into town, not telling his men what he intended to do there. And while he paced about the radio room, he doubted his earlier decision and tried to figure out what to do.

Hogan was taken out of his thoughts when he heard footsteps approaching the room, turning around just in time to see Tiger appear. She gave him a sad smile and moved closer to him, placing her arms around his broad shoulders while burying her nose in his neck, smelling his aftershave. "How are you feeling, _mon ch_ _é_ _ri?_ Has your brother woken up yet?"

Hogan pressed Tiger tightly against his body, stroking with his hand across her back. "Not yet; he's still in a coma." He disengaged himself from her and gazed into her eyes. "And I'm feeling awful."

She brushed with her fingers a few strands of his thick black hair from his forehead and asked, "Why that, Robert?" If Tiger was calling him by his name, she never shortened it. She liked the sound of it way too much to erase even one letter.

Hogan dropped his gaze and walked over to the stool by the radio. He sat down and explained, "I feel like I'm the one to blame for his condition. Fuhrmann was after **me** , using **him** as a bait. And all I did was sit around while he was being tortured. And now Josh is fighting for his life because I did nothing to prevent it."

Tiger sat down across from him and took his hands in her own, gently squeezing them. "You know that this is not the truth, Robert. You tried everything in your power to bring him back. And you did." She stared at him and said, "You convinced Burkhalter to order Josh's release. You prevented Fuhrmann from doing anything else to him."

"But the only reason I could convince him was because someone else informed him about Josh's questioning," Hogan interjected. "Without this person, Josh would probably be dead by now."

"You don't know that, _mon chéri,"_ Tiger said, trying to stop Hogan from blaming yourself. "Robert, you can't change the past, so stop worrying about what you should have done differently. Focus on the present and the future; that's what's important."

Hogan eventually nodded, raising his gaze to meet hers. "Fine, I follow your advice and quit worrying about the past." He gave her a puzzled look and asked, "Say, did Fuhrmann really try to escape or have you wanted to do me a favour by killing him yourself?"

Tiger's face turned into a blank expression. "Like I said, you should concentrate one the present and the future, not the past."

She gave him a stern look, with that showing Hogan that the matter was closed. He got the hint and rose to his feet as he began to pace again, still trying to figure out whether to do what he had planned or not. All the while, Tiger quietly observed him, knowing that the pacing was his way of thinking. So she did not say anything and waited for him to start.

After a while, Hogan stopped pacing and turned to face Tiger. His expression was unreadable, something Tiger did not like at all; she preferred to have an idea what people intended to do. Hogan stepped over to her and grabbed her hands, tugging at them to make her stand up. She complied, albeit confused.

Suddenly, Hogan knelt down on one knee, his hands gripping hers. "Marie," he began, confusing Tiger even more by the use of her real name. "I have thought about doing this for quite some time now. Though we rarely saw each other over the last two years, it was the longest I've ever had something with a woman. And the reason why I call what we have "something" and not "relationship" is that I don't know what you are thinking about our romance." Hogan gave her an unsure smile to hide his nervousness, seeing a mixture of confusion and disbelief spreading across her face. "To be completely honest, in the beginning I thought of you as a girl to pass some time in here whenever we would meet. But over the years my feelings for you grew, and the affection I've felt for you from the moment I first saw you turned into love. And with the war seemingly coming to an end, I began to think about my future. And every time I did, I ended up thinking about us two living together in the States with a couple of children." He let go of her hands and grabbed into his pants pocket, retrieving a small diamond ring. "I know you always said you didn't want to enter into a commitment during the war because of the unpredictability of the espionage business, but I don't want to wait any longer, not knowing what the future will hold." Hogan took a deep breath before asking, "Marie, will you marry me after the war?"

Tiger stared at Hogan, not believing that he actually proposed; something she had dreamt to happen, but never dared to hope. Her red lips circled into a smile and she said, "Yes, Robert, I would be delighted to marry you!"

A broad and relieved smile found its way on Hogan's face as he rose to his feet. While gazing into Tiger's eyes, he slipped the diamond ring on her left ring finger. Then he stroked with his thumb across her cheek before leaning in, placing his lips tenderly on hers. Hogan circled his arms around Tiger's waist and pulled her close to him. She put one hand on his back while she buried the other in his black hair, enjoying the feeling of being in her now fiancé's arms. Never in a million years had Tiger thought she would ever be able to say this. But now she could, and she felt like her life was beginning to go back to normal, without constantly worrying about defeating the Nazis.

When they finally broke apart, Hogan kept his hands on her hips and said, "Now Josh only has to wake up and I'm the happiest man in the world."

"He will, Robert," Tiger assured him. "He will."


	22. Chapter 22

_There was a flash of white and next, old Jout found himself in an office, watching his eighteen-year-old self standing in front of his new CO, Group Captain Preston. He was dressed in a blue RAF uniform, proudly wearing the small light blue and black stripes on his shoulders and sleeves, indicating that he was now a Pilot officer for the Royal Air Force, the lowest of all officer ranks. He had asked his former CO, Colonel Fahlett, for a transfer to the British Air Force in order to be able to defend his mother's birth country, even though he never had been there before. Fahlett reluctantly accepted, sad about loosing an exceptional pilot but understanding his wish. And now Jout was actually in England, standing in his CO's office on the RAF base North Weald and about to become a member of the newly reformed No. 121 Eagle Squadron._

" _We skipped some years to get to the next important moment in your life," young Jout announced. "This is eleven years in the future; your first day with the Eagle Squadron. And the day –"_

" _I met Henri," old Jout interrupted. "I remember this day quite lividly. One of the best and yet worst days of my life."_

" _Is that so?" young Jout asked._

 _Old Jout nodded. "One of the best because I met Henri; he was my first love. And one of the worst because it was the start of the trouble with Brawley." [1]_

 _Young Jout did not answer to that statement and they went back to watching the scene in front of them._

 _Preston sat in his chair and observed the young officer standing by his desk closely. He had mixed feelings about him; on the one hand, he had read his records and if he really was as good as described, he would be a valuable and needed asset to his squadron. On the other hand, he doubted that Jout was able to stand the pressure as a fighter pilot in war time. But now the young man was part of his squadron and Preston just had to wait and see how he would do in battle._

" _If I may say, impressive record Pilot Officer Hogan. Especially considering your age," Preston said._

" _Thank you, Sir. But I only followed the orders I was given." Jout never liked to be praised for simply fulfilling his duty._

" _That you have done more spectacular than any of your comrades." Preston rose to his feet and walked over to a map on the wall right to his desk. "I'm glad to have you on my outfit, but I'm not sure if you can handle the pressure of war," he announced. Preston waved Jout over and pointed to the map while explaining, "For almost one year now, we are the only country left to fight the Germans. France, Belgium, the Netherlands, Luxembourg, Denmark, Norway, and Eastern Europe is under German control. And Australia and New Zealand have their own problems with the Japanese Empire. Though it seems like the Blitz is over, there won't be a single night in which a fighter pilot of the RAF won't be on alert, if not actually racing through the sky to protect his home country." Preston turned to Jout and said, "Since the States have not entered the war yet, I find it great that guys like you volunteer for war service, but you have to understand: as the Royal Air Force, we don't rush to aid a struggling partner. We are_ _ **protecting**_ _our country, the people, and the King. And from now on,_ _ **you**_ _are a part of the RAF. You have to fight as if this island is your home country, you have to think of the people as your fellow countrymen, and you have to be willing to give your life for the King. Do you understand?"_

 _Jout nodded. "You have to know, Sir, I'm half English. My mother was born in Cornwall. So I'm one hundred percent willing to protect and if needed to die for this country and the people. I want to do my part in helping to defeat the Nazis and free Europe. From now on, I'm an Englishman defending his country."_

 _Preston stared at the young man in front of him and began to smile. He clapped him on his shoulder and said, "That's what I wanted to hear, Pilot Officer Hogan." He stepped away from him and went towards the door. "Now let's go and show you your quarters."_

* * *

The next morning, Hogan stood in the radio room, receiving a surprising message from London. As he waited for last information, his mind travelled back to yesterday night's events. He was overjoyed that Tiger agreed to marry him and for the first time in years he had a positive view of his future, yet at the same time he was extremely sad that he could not share this news with the person most important to him next to Tiger: Jout. There was still no sign of him regaining consciousness and Hogan started to think about him never waking up again for the first time since Jout was brought back to camp. It was a thought he hoped with all his heart would never become reality.

When he got the last information, Hogan disconnected and made his way into the barracks. He found it empty because of the sports hour. But Hogan knew that one man had not joined his comrades and therefore he went into his quarters, finding the person he was looking for on the stool he had occupied for almost four days now.

"How is he, Peter?" Hogan asked.

"Still unconscious," Newkirk answered, his voice clearly showing how defeated he was. He too was slowly overwhelmed by doubts concerning Jout's survival.

Hogan grabbed the stool that stood by his desk and placed it next to Newkirk. He sat down and asked, "And how are you feeling?"

Newkirk turned his head to face his commanding officer, his face sunken and a hint of a beard clearly evident. "Afraid, mostly. And ya, Sir?"

Hogan sighed. "The same, Peter." He gazed at his brother, who lied in the bunk, evenly breathing as if he was sleeping. "A message from London came in," Hogan said after some time spent in silence. "It was for Josh."

"For Josh?" Newkirk asked in disbelief. "But London knows about Josh's condition. Why would they send 'im a message?"

"Because it wasn't the Allied Control Centre that sent the message, but the Immigration Office," Hogan answered. He was greeted by Newkirk staring at him with a shocked expression on his face. He could also hear a low, "What?" coming from the Englishman next to him. Hogan nodded and gave him a small smile. "Apparently he wanted to surprise you with an approved apply for the British citizenship."

Newkirk's shocked expression grew even wider, and Hogan feared his eyes might pop out. "But…'ow? I mean, I never saw 'im doin' any test, neither 'as 'e lived in the UK lon' enough to apply for one."

"Well, he doesn't need to do a test or anything like that. Our mother was born in England. That's why his apply was granted so quickly; because of a British family member," Hogan explained. "And because of a little help from General Gallagher."

Newkirk looked at Jout, squeezing his hand gently. "I didn't know yer mother was British. To be 'onest, I barely know anythin' about 'is past."

Hogan placed a hand on Newkirk's shoulder, making the Brit directing his gaze at him. "Don't work yourself up over that. Josh doesn't like to talk about his past…and neither do I. There is just so much pain connected to it; especially to our childhood."

"I know that, gov'nor," Newkirk said. "But Josh may die, and I wouldn't even know the names of his parents. And that after almost one year of being together."

Hogan watched how Newkirk turned back to Jout and gently began to brush with his fingers over his brother's forehead. "Margaret and Edward," he eventually said, making Newkirk stop for a split second, before the Brit continued his movements. "My second name is a "dedication" to him…unfortunately. And our grandfather was named Patrick."

Newkirk snorted. "Know 'ow ya feel, gov'nor. Me second name is Frederick; like me old man. Frankly, I could do without it."

Hogan nodded and rose to his feet. "Well, you need to remember one thing, Peter: Just because you named after your father, doesn't mean that you are like him. Your personality makes you who you are, not some name."

* * *

 _Young and old Jout followed Group Captain Preston and eighteen-year-old Jout on their way through the base in search of Jout's quarters. They stepped into a building near the tarmac, made up of a long hallway with six doors on each side._

" _These are the officers' quarters," Preston explained while they walked down the hallway. "The enlisted men are sleeping in barracks on the other side of the tarmac. Each room hosts two people, mostly same in rank." They walked up to the last door on the left and while Preston opened the door he said, "You will share a room with Pilot Officer Dupont. He will show you around and explain the rest when he's back from duty."_

 _Jout went into the room and put his duffel bag on the empty bed in the far-right corner. "Alright, Sir."_

" _Any questions left you feel the need to ask me instead of Pilot Officer Dupont?"_

" _No, Sir," Jout answered. "Everything's answered for now."_

 _Preston nodded. "Good to hear. I will leave you alone now so that you can get settled in, Pilot Officer Hogan."_

 _Jout gave his CO a salute which Preston returned before he left the room, closing the door behind him. Being alone in the room that would be his home for who knows how long, Jout looked around. There were two beds by the right wall, each having a nightstand next to it. In between was a window with a chest of drawers underneath. On the wall with the door hang a full-length mirror and a rack, which hang on the opposing wall as well. There was also another window in the opposing wall. By the left wall were two closets and in the middle of the room was a round table with two chairs. As Jout's gaze drifted to the bed which was already occupied, he saw multiple pictures hanging on the walls by the bed as well as on the nightstand. He walked up to the bed to have a better look at the pictures. On all of them he spotted a young man with two elder people, a man and a woman; presumably his grandparents._

 _Jout was too wrapped up in looking at the pictures to notice that the door was opened. Only when a voice asked, "Like what you see?" did he avert his gaze from the pictures. In front of him stood the young man from the pictures, whose short hair turned out to be golden blond. His warm hazel brown eyes were gleaming from the sun rays that came through the window, a grin circling around his pale pink lips. Jout instantly felt himself blushing, a tingling sensation spreading from his stomach._

 _When he got a hold of himself, he stammered, "Ahem…sorry for…for staring at your pictures."_

 _The other man just waved off and came closer. "Nothing to be sorry for. Pictures are there for looking at them." He stretched out his hand and said, "I suppose you're the new guy with whom I share my room from now on. I'm Pilot Officer Dupont. But you can call me Henri."_

 _Jout shook his hand, amazed by the tight grip and the soft palm. "Pilot Officer Hogan. Jout for you…if you want," he said, still feeling a slight red tone on his cheeks which he hoped Henri would not notice, even though it was impossible to miss._

 _Sensing the other man's nervousness, Henri bit back a cheeky comment. Instead he decided to break the ice with a bit of small talk. "Jout? Unusual name."_

" _It's short for Joshua," Jout said. "And your name sounds French."_

" _It is; my parents were born in France." Henri pointed at the round table in the middle of the room and suggested, "Why don't we sit down. Feels awkward to stand while talking."_

 _As they went to the dark brown table, Jout observed Henri. He was a bit taller than he was and seemed to be in a perfect physique; at least from what Jout saw. When his eyes reached the other man's backside, his heart skipped a beat, yet he quickly averted his eyes upon feeling his heart racing. He tried to act as nonchalant as possible when he sat down; however, Jout felt the urge to smile upon looking in Henri's brown eyes, which had a light golden shimmer._

" _So, what made you volunteer for this fine squadron?" asked Henri, taking Jout out of his thoughts._

" _Well, I want to fight the Nazis," Jout answered. "And protect my Mom's home country."_

" _Your mother's English?" Jout nodded and Henri asked further, "But how come you volunteer now? The war is already going on for about one and a half years."_

" _I couldn't volunteer earlier; I only turned eighteen this February. And then I had to convince my CO to sign my transfer papers," Jout explained._

" _You're eighteen?" Henri questioned, a disbelieving look on his face. "And already an officer?" Jout nodded and gave him a sheepish smile. "Impressive. And I presume by having a CO to convince that you were already part of the American Air Force."_

" _That's right. Joined up with fourteen because of…," Jout stopped himself before saying anything about his abusive father. Instead he simply said,"…because of family troubles."_

 _Henri noticed how Jout's bright brown eyes changed a shade darker, a shade sadder, and he knew that whatever those family troubles were about, Jout would definitely not want to talk about them. He instantly felt closer to the young American since he also had severe problems with his parents. "I understand you," Henri said. "Haven't talked with my parents in years."_

 _Wanting to change the subject, Jout questioned, "And you? Why have you joined up?"_

" _To fight for France." Henri rose to his feet and walked over to his bed, taking a picture from the nightstand. He walked back to Jout and showed it to him. "They are living in a small village outside of Paris. I want to take part in freeing them from the Nazi tyranny."_

" _I'm sure you will," Jout answered. He gave the picture back to Henri, who placed it on the nightstand again._

 _Henri turned back to Jout and asked, "Enough of this! Has Preston shown you around the base already?"_

 _Jout shook his head. "He said you would do that."_

" _Then let's go." Henri walked over to the door and held it open for Jout. When the young man walked past him, he took a small bow, making Jout blush again. Henri gave him a broad grin, his eyes holding a mischievous gleam._

 _When the door closed, young Jout asked his older self, who sat on the bed, "What was wrong with you? You looked funny."_

 _Old Jout laughed. "You just observed how an inexperienced young man fell hopelessly in love for the first time in his life."_

" _So you loved him right from the beginning?" young Jout inquired._

" _From the moment I first looked into his hazel brown eyes that held this exceptional golden sparkle, I knew I was in love." Old Jout sighed, still finding it hard to talk about Henri. "We both circled around our feelings for the rest of the year. Beginning of December, we were in London for a week off, and Henri made the first step there. It was during this trip that we got together; three months later, he proposed and then died. Henri was…he was my first boyfriend, my first love." Old Jout's gaze fell on the bed that Henri had occupied and he said, "He will always hold a special place in my heart. And nothing, not even the deep love I feel for Peter, can erase my love for him." Old Jout averted his gaze and directed it at his younger self, seeing the confused look on the young boy's face, which made him smirk. "You're too young to understand."_

" _Probably." Young Jout sat down next to his older self and asked, "Ready to go to the next moment?"_

" _The day Henri died?" old Jout questioned. The young boy nodded and old Jout said, "As ready as I'll ever be."_

 _Young Jout nodded and snapped his fingers again, making the surroundings fade and covering them in white on their way to one of the most horrible day's of Jout's entire life._


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N: There are some sexual allusions in the beginning.**

* * *

 _The first thing Jout did after he woke up was to wrinkle his nose and press his eyes shut. He hated waking up in the morning; luckily, as an officer he was allowed to sleep longer than the enlisted men. How he survived four years of being an enlisted man without punishments for being late in the morning was a miracle to him. When his thoughts returned to the present, he realized his head lay on something warm that moved up and down. Jout began to smile as he thought back to last night. For the first time since coming together, Henri and he went beyond just touching. It was the first time for him and it was amazing. Jout felt how Henri tenderly stroked his upper arm with his thumb which made him stir, looking up at an already awake Henri, who had his right arm placed behind his head to lie on it._

" _Good morning, mon ch_ _é_ _ri," Henri greeted, sounding still very much drowsy._

" _Good morning," Jout answered, leaning forward and placing his lips on Henri's, giving him a passionate kiss._

 _Henri returned the kiss and wrapped his arms around Jout's waist. When they eventually broke apart, Henri grinned at his boyfriend while rubbing across his back. "If you continue kissing me like this, I will get aroused again."_

" _I wouldn't mind at all," Jout playfully retorted as he leaned in for another kiss, with that starting a steamy make-out session._

 _Afterwards, Jout sat up and put his shorts on. Henri still lay in his bed, the blanket drawn up to his waist. He watched how his boyfriend put on his white undershirt and announced, "Let's get married."_

 _Jout stopped in his tracks and stared at Henri. "What?"_

 _Henri sat up and placed his right hand on Jout's thigh. "I said, let's get married."_

" _I understood what you have said. I just can't believe it," Jout said. "You do realize that we are two men, don't you? We can't get married. Besides, we are only a couple for about three months."_

" _Not officially. But that doesn't prevent us from promising each other love and fidelity, and from wearing matching rings. I don't want to wait any longer. I have loved you from the moment I first saw you, and these past three months were the happiest in my entire life. Don't you see that every day could be our last? I don't want to waste another day without having told you how much you mean to me, how much I love you." He gave Jout a soft smile and squeezed his thigh gently. "What do you say, Jout? Do you want to marry me?"_

 _Jout stared at his lover, seeing how his hazel brown eyes radiated a deep love for him, which made him feel warm and cherished. He smiled at Henri and placed his hand on his, giving it a squeeze. "Yes, Henri, I would love to be your husband."_

 _Henri gave him a broad smile and moved forward, pushing Jout on his back. He kissed him deeply while he slipped his hand under Jout's shirt, lightly driving across the skin. They stayed like this for a while, simply enjoying the feeling of being in each other's arms._

* * *

It had been five days now since Jout was brought back to camp. Five days without any sign of him returning to consciousness. The last days had shown how much he was needed for the happiness of the occupants of barracks two. Since he was abducted from Fuhrmann and later brought back to camp barely alive, Hogan and Newkirk barely talked with the others, always staying by Jout's bedside in Hogan's quarters. And the other occupants were worried too, which led them to mostly living their own lives, not really doing anything with each other.

It was after another talk with Klink, who grew more and more concerned with every passing day that did not see the lieutenant waking up, that Hogan went back into his quarters and found Newkirk sitting by the bunk bed, staring down at a brown jacket in his hands. The Brit did not avert his gaze from the jacket after Hogan came into the room, and only when Hogan stepped closer did he recognized the piece of fabric as belonging to Jout.

"Hey, Newkirk," Hogan said, finally getting a reaction from Newkirk, who looked up at him. "What are you doing with Josh's jacket?"

"Today was laundry day, and Carter cleaned Josh's trousers and jacket. 'is shirt and undershirt are beyond repair, so they will be used as cleanin' equipment from now on," Newkirk explained. "I will repair the trousers and tailor 'im a new pair of shirt and undershirt."

"Alright, but why are you staring at his jacket?" By now Hogan had sat down next to Newkirk.

Newkirk gave his commanding officer a small smile. "Carter came in to give me Josh's clothin'. Wanted to put it away when I spotted the insignia on his sleeve." He brushed with his thumb across the light blue circular patch on the jacket's left sleeve, showing a rabbit with a helmet that leant on a cloud while holding a yellow bomb. "Made me think back to the day 'e was shot down. I really took the mickey out of 'im for 'is insignia and the nickname of 'is unit, "Reckless Rabbits". But Josh didn't mind at all; blimey, 'e even joined in. Ya know, Colonel, I think this was the beginnin' of our relationship."

"I remember that day," Hogan said, he too having a small smile on his lips. "I was completely shocked upon seeing him again; never thought I would. And then here, of all the places!" He placed his hand on Newkirk's shoulder and announced, "This day was the beginning of a new relationship between Josh and me too. And I promise you, there won't be a day that will end it; neither the relationship between him and me, nor the relationship between him and you. Josh will survive this, and we will all walk out of the front gate at the end of the war; together."

Newkirk turned his head, facing Jout again. " 'ow can ya be so bloody sure, gov'nor?"

"Because, Peter, _hope dies last_."

* * *

 _Later that day, Jout was the last one to arrive back at the RAF base after fighting off a German attack. He got separated from the rest of his unit while he followed an extremely aggressive German fighter pilot, who managed to land a bad hit on Jout's plane that destroyed all of his instruments, including the radio. When the wheels of his plane connected with the ground, Jout let out a sigh of relief; he had not thought he would manage to get back to his base._

 _After driving the plane to its place, Jout climbed out of it and said to the ground personnel, "My bird needs to be repaired. Fritz hit it pretty bad."_

 _One of the ground personnel nodded, and Jout left the tarmac to report to Group Captain Preston. His office was near the front gate, which meant he had to walk through the whole base. When he arrived at the building, he went into it, finding himself in the secretary's office._

" _Good evening, Miss Richards," Jout greeted as he gave the lady at a desk a broad smile. "My, how do you manage to look more beautiful every time I lay my eyes on you?" From the moment he first met Miss Richards, Jout could tell that she fancied him. He felt flattered, yet at the same time he felt bad for her since he was not interested in girls. Because he could not tell her that he liked boys, not wanting to be confronted with pejorative attitudes of his comrades while being cramped together with them, Jout sometimes made such flattering comments to make the impression of flirting with her. He knew he was being an asshole, playing with that poor girl's feelings, but he had to deceive his comrades. Sometimes, a guy had to do what a guy had to do to survive._

 _Miss Richards started to smile shyly, her freckled cheeks turning slightly red while she brushed a strand of her ginger hair behind her ear. She directed her green eyes at the paperwork on her desk while she answered, "Don't be silly, Pilot Officer Hogan! You only say this because you want something."_

 _By now, Jout had moved behind her desk, leaning against it while looking down to the right where Miss Richards sat. "Now you are being silly. I never compliment you because I want something from you. Those things come right from my heart." He gave her one of his beaming smiles that made his chocolate brown eyes sparkle._

 _Miss Richards gave him a shy giggle, fumbling with the pencil in her hands. "Well, what can I do for you, Pilot Officer? I heard your unit had a mission?"_

" _You can bet we had! Jerry tried to get behind our lines again, but that would have meant to get past us; and of course he failed to do so. I'm just here to report to Group Captain Preston, since I got a bit lost during the flight and only arrived a few minutes ago. Is he free?"_

" _Yes, you can go in," Miss Richards answered._

" _Great!" Jout exclaimed while bobbing himself up._

 _He proceeded to Preston's door, but before he was able to knock he heard Miss Richards' voice questioning, "And when will you take me out like you have promised weeks ago?"_

 _Jout turned around and said, "As soon as I get a pass from the boss. But you know how he is at the moment; no one's supposed to leave the base unless absolutely necessary." He saw her face turning into a crestfallen expression and quickly added, "But don't worry. I will think of something."_

 _Miss Richards began to smile again and Jout winked at her. Then he turned around and knocked on Preston's door, waiting until he was invited in. When he was, Jout stepped in and gave Preston a salute. "Sorry for being the last to report to base, Sir. But I was under heavy fire and got separated from the rest of my unit, and I had to find my way back without one functioning instrument."_

 _Without looking up from the paperwork he was currently occupied with, Preston answered, "Don't worry about it, Hogan. I'm glad to have you back." Jout was just about to turn around and leave the office again when Preston announced, "But you are not the last."_

 _Tensing up a bit, Jout asked, "Who's missing, Sir?"_

" _Pilot Officer Dupont's plane was shot down. We don't know whether he survived the crash and might be taken prisoner, or…" Preston stopped himself before finishing the sentence since he was aware of the friendship between the man in front of him and the missing pilot._

 _Jout's face had paled noticeably. "Or if he died," he whispered, finishing his CO's sentence._

 _Preston looked up and sighed upon seeing the white complexion on Jout's face, also noticing how bad the young man shook; presumably out of fear for his friend. He stood up from his chair and walked around his desk, stopping right in front of Jout. Preston placed a hand on his shoulder and said, "Don't meet trouble halfway! We'll just have to wait until we hear from the Red Cross." Jout opened his mouth, but Preston cut him off. "I will inform you as soon as I receive news about Dupont. Now, I want you to go to your room and catch some shuteye. The next raid won't be long in coming."_

 _Jout nodded, slowly turning around and leaving the room. He did not react to Miss Richards, who asked him if everything was alright. He simply walked out of the building and as soon as he stepped outside, he began to run to his room. When Jout entered his and Henri's quarters, he slammed the door shut and leant against it. He slid down, coming to sit down on the ground with his knees drawn to his chest. The minute that the news he got from Preston had sunk in, Jout began to weep, the fear for his fiancé taking control of his whole body. He did not know how long he sat on the ground, but eventually exhaustion got the better of him and he fell asleep while leaning against the door._

 _Old and young Jout had watched the scene in front of them as they sat on Jout's bed. Old Jout had to use all of his strength to prevent himself from crying, the emotions he felt over two years ago coming back to him._

" _What happened after that?" young Jout asked, making him snap out of his emotional fight._

" _I woke up the next morning. By then, Preston had already gotten the news about Henri's death since the list of men that had been captured or had been Killed-in-Action that the Allies received from the Red Cross on a regular basis had been due to come in," Jout explained. "I went back to his office and he informed be about Henri's death. I broke down right there. Next thing I know is waking up in our infirmary. Luckily, everyone knew that Henri and I were best friends, so they didn't ask any questions about my emotional reaction."_

" _You must have really liked him," young Jout concluded form his older self's explanation._

" _I loved him, with all my heart. And you can believe me, losing someone you love is the worst thing that can happen to you. It tears your heart out and smashes it. And since I could not talk with anyone about the real reason behind my grief, it was only harder for me to cope with his death." A small smile crept on Jout's face. "Until I met Peter, I never thought I would be happy ever again; never thought of finding love again."_

" _You see? You can't die because than Peter would have to go through the same thing you went through. Do you really want that?"_

" _Of course not, but –"_

" _But what?" young Jout interjected._

 _Old Jout put his head in his hands as a wave of searing pain rushed through his body, emanating from his right shoulder, left knee, and stomach area. He leant back on the bed and wrapped his left arm around his stomach. "The pain is just too much! I don't think I can fight the exhaustion I feel any longer."_

 _Young Jout placed a hand on his older self's arm and assured, "Hang in there! We only have two last moments ahead of us!"_

 _Jout's lips left a groan and he had to squinch his eyes shut. He breathed a breathy sigh and asked, "And what is the second to last one?"_

" _Tommy's fifth birthday."_


	24. Chapter 24

_As soon as the white vanished, old Jout found himself in Ann's living room. He immediately had to lean against the wall, his vision being blurred by a feeling of dizziness. He pressed his eyes shut and too deep breaths, trying to fight against the unconsciousness that was slowly taking over his body. Again, an intense pain stabbed into his stomach and he wrapped his right arm around it._

" _How come…" old Jout began, but his voice failed because of the pain. He breathed out and tried again. "How come the pain is getting stronger and stronger with every new moment we visit?"_

" _Your subconscious mind has already made the decision to go back to the living world. And because of that, the pain is coming back," young Jout explained._

" _Great," Jout muttered. He took another deep breath before he opened his eyes again to concentrate on what was happening in front of him._

 _Twenty-year-old Jout sat at Ann's dining table, happily observing how Tommy blew out the candles on his birthday cake. When he succeeded in blowing out all five candles, Ann and Jout cheered._

" _Great, buddy!" Jout exclaimed. "You want to tell me what your wish is about?"_

" _Dad! You know they don't come true if you tell them," Tommy said._

 _Jout held up his hands in defence and laughed, "I know, I know."_

" _How about we start with the cake?" Ann asked, receiving two vibrant nods._

 _After Ann had cut the cake into pieces, the three began to eat._

" _When can I open my presents?" Tommy asked as he finished his first piece of cake. Seeing the thoughtful expressions on his parents' faces, he pleaded, "Pleeeeeaaaaasssseee."_

 _Jout looked at Ann and asked with a smirk, "What do you think?"_

 _Ann glanced at her son and eventually announced, "Alright."_

 _Tommy exclaimed a jubilant scream while Jout rose to his feet to retrieve the presents from the living room table. There were four packages, two from each of them. He gave Tommy the first two packages, which were wrapped in a light green paper._

" _Here you go, buddy," Jout said. "These are from your mom."_

 _Being the kid he was, Tommy quickly ripped the paper apart, revealing a new pair of black leather shoes and toy blocks. A broad smile found its way on his face as he said, "Thanks, Mom!"_

 _Ann returned her son's smile, glad that he liked his presents. The last months, she had to work a lot of extra hours to be able to afford those two things for her son, but the joyful expression on Tommy's face was worth it all._

 _Jout put two other packages on the table before Tommy; one small and one a bit larger. They were also wrapped up in green paper, seeing as it was Tommy's favourite colour._

" _And these are from me, buddy," Jout said. "Happy Birthday, Tommy!"_

 _Tommy first ripped the paper from the larger package, revealing a brown carton. When he opened it, he spotted a miniature plane, which made his eyes sparkle. Jout had to smile upon seeing that his son liked the present, even though he never doubted it for one second. If there was one thing Tommy loved, it was miniature planes._

" _Thank you, Dad!" he exclaimed. "Now I have ten planes!"_

" _You know, Tommy, this isn't just any miniature plane. That's a B-17 Flying Fortress; one of the most famous bombers of the US Army Air Force," Jout explained. "Ten men are needed to fly this thing. That's how big it is."_

 _Tommy put the miniature plane back in the carton and turned his attention to the small package. He removed the paper and found a blue box. Tommy opened the box, revealing two golden bars._

" _These are my old Second Lieutenant bars," Jout said as he took the two bars out of the box. He stretched his hands out and pinned the golden bars to the collar of Tommy's shirt. "Now you are an official member of the US Army Air Force." Jout gave him a salute and added, "Lieutenant Chadwick."_

 _Tommy gave his father a broad smile, equally to the one he gave his mother, as he returned the salute. Then he turned to his mother and asked, "How do I look, Mom?"_

" _You look great, Tommy," Ann said, a smile on her lips. "But before you go into air, why don't we finish up the cake?"_

 _While Jout and Tommy put the presents away, Ann distributed another round of cake. The three of them spent the rest of the evening celebrating, playing board games and laughing with each other. Unknown to them, it would be the last day they spent together for the next two years._

 _Old Jout, who still leant against the wall, his arm wrapped around his middle, panted to fight the pain. "That was the last time I saw Tommy. Five days later, I found myself in Stalag 13 after being shot down over the middle of Germany."_

 _Young Jout looked up, watching how drops of sweat ran down his older self's forehead and temples. "Next year he will be already seven years old."_

 _Old Jout dropped his gaze. "And judging from my current condition and the pace the Allies progress, I will miss that too." Then he whispered, "Maybe it was the last birthday of his that I witnessed."_

" _You can't say something like this!" young Jout exclaimed. "He is another reason why you have to keep fighting. Tommy has already lost a father! Do you want to make it two?"_

" _Of course not!" old Jout screamed, immediately regretting his raised voice upon the ache shooting from his stomach area. He closed his eyes and put his head back against the wall. "But some things are just beyond one's control. Maybe it's just my time to go."_

 _Young Jout shook his head vigorously. "You don't understand! Not everyone gets the chance to look back and decide whether they want to continue fighting or let go. You are lucky enough to be granted this opportunity. Don't screw it up!"_

 _Old Jout directed his glance at his young self and a small laugh escaped his lips. "'Don't screw it up'? Since when do little kids like you use this kind of language?"_

" _Ever since they have to deal with such stubborn adults like you are," young Jout retorted, a smirk on his lips._

 _Old Jout shook his head and ruffled through his younger self's hair while saying, "Touché." He put his hands on his knees to lean on them as another wave of pain came over him. "Alright…what is…what is the last moment?"_

" _The day you were shot down."_

* * *

Hogan and Newkirk watched how Wilson examined a still unconscious Jout. It had been day six of his coma and there was still not a single sign of him waking up.

As Wilson finished listening to his patient's heart beat and breathing, he turned to the two spectators and announced, "Unfortunately, his heart beat is getting slower and there is a slight rustle to his breathing."

"So he is getting worse than better," Hogan concluded.

"I'm afraid, yes, Sir," Wilson said. He gazed at the two men, seeing the defeated looks in their faces, which made him sigh. "I'm sorry, but it seems like you have to prepare yourself for his death."

This statement was like a punch to the gut. Hogan dropped his gaze and drove with his fingers through his hair upon hearing that his suspicion was true. "Oh, Josh," he muttered under his breath.

But Newkirk was not willing to accept this gruesome fate. "There 'as to be somethin' we can do! Ya're the medic, Wilson. Why don't ya give 'im some medication to 'elp 'im wake up or so?"

"Peter, as much as I hate saying this, there is nothing either of us can do." Wilson stretched his hand out and placed it on the Brit's shoulder. "Sometimes, the damage done to a body exceeds what the medicine can do to fight it. As bitter as it is, but sometimes all we can do is wait for someone to die. It's awful, but it's the plain truth."

"No," Newkirk said, shaking his head. "No! I won't accept it. Josh will wake up! 'e 'as to!" He marched to the place he had occupied for almost a week now and stated, "And when 'e will, I'll be 'ere."

"Peter," Hogan began. "I know it hurts to face the reality. But it's better to be prepared than to be caught off-guard. You know how the old saying goes, ' _Hope for the best and prepare for the worst'_."

"Enough, gov'nor!" Newkirk yelled. "I don't want to 'ear any more of yer smart sayings. Whether it's this one or the one about optimism yer mother used to tell ya. I'm sick of it! If ya guys want to give up on 'im, fine. But I won't. And ya know why? Because Josh would do the same. 'e would fight for me until I breathe my dyin' breath. And the same goes for me." Newkirk turned around to Jout and grabbed the hand on his chest. He leaned down to his boyfriend's ear and whispered, "Please, Josh, I'm beggin' ya. Wake up. I don't know what to do without ya."

Having observed the other man's outburst, Wilson tilted his head to the door. Hogan and he left the adjoined room and stepped into the barracks' main room, which was completely empty since the other occupants were on a working detail.

"I know that people deny the possibility of their loved ones dying, but if it comes to it, it will be all the more devastating for him," Wilson said, keeping his voice low.

Hogan sighed, pinching the back of his nose. "I know, Wilson, but I don't really want to think about Josh dying either."

"Colonel, I understand that it's not something you two want to happen, but trust me: better settle with the worst scenario possible and may witness a happy-ending than otherwise." Wilson made his way over to the door, but before he left the barracks he said, "I will check on him tomorrow. Get me if his condition changes."

Hogan nodded, watching how the medic left. Taking a deep breath, hoping to somehow digest the prospect of his little brother's tragical fate, Hogan drove with his hands across the face. No, he would not fall apart when one of his men needed him the most. He would have later time to be over-washed by sadness and grief.

Hogan opened the door to his quarters and opened his mouth to start a conversation with his stubborn second-in-command when Newkirk said without turning away from facing Josh, "I'm sorry for snappin' at ya, gov'nor. I know ya don't want to see 'im die just as much as I; after all, 'e is yer brother."

Hogan walked over to Newkirk and sat down on the stool beside him. He wrapped an arm around Newkirk's shoulders and said, "No need to apologize, Peter. This situation weighs heavily on all of us."

In a rare act of showing his emotions, Newkirk leant into his commanding officer, which remained uncommented by Hogan. He simple held him and waited for the Brit to talk. "I…I realize it's barmy of me to be so bloody sure about Josh wakin' up, but…but the thought of 'im dyin' is scarin' me. Josh is the best thin' 'at 'as 'appened to me in me entire life. Since I'm with 'im, I finally look into my future with a smile on me face, knowin' 'at whatever will come me way, I will be happy because I 'ave 'im. But if I lose 'im, I know my 'eart will be broken…and I'm not sure 'at I can repair it."

Hogan squeezed Newkirk's arm and said, "No one asks you to lose hope. Wilson and I only think it will be better for you to consider the option that he might not survive. And I'm sure Josh would not want you to let the grief you feel if he might die eat you up. I'm certain he would want you to find a way to live on, without him."

"But I don't want to live in a world where 'e is not there anymore."

"Me neither," Hogan said. "Me neither."


	25. Chapter 25

_After young Jout had snapped his fingers, old Jout found himself walking with his younger self across the compound of Stalag 13._

" _How long have you been a prisoner here?" young Jout ask as they passed Klink's office._

" _October 20th it will be exactly one year and seven months," old Jout answered. "And one day later, it will be my one-year-anniversary with Peter."_

 _While the two made their way over to barracks two, young Jout questioned, "How was it for you to meet Rob again?"_

" _Like a punch in the face. I was totally thunderstruck when Klink mentioned that Rob is the Senior POW of this camp. I mean, almost thirteen years had passed by since he left me; never in a million years had I thought to ever meet him again. And then in a German POW camp during wartime! What are the odds?" Jout explained. "When I had overcome my initial shock, I instantly felt anger rising in me. I promised myself to never forgive Rob for what he'd done." A chuckle left his lips. "This promise lasted for about a month. That's how long it took me to forgive him."_

" _What changed your mind?"_

" _Peter," old Jout said, a smile appearing on his face. "He was the one I opened up to, telling him all about my childhood. He listened to me, without making any disrespectful comments like a lot of others before him did; because he knew what I've been through. Peter told me about his own experiences with his abusive father, erasing the feeling of loneliness that I had felt in my past. He was also the one who suggested that I should forgive Rob. If it was not for Peter, I wouldn't have a brother right now."_

 _They arrived at the barracks, and young Jout opened the door. When old Jout stepped into the familiar building, he saw Newkirk, LeBeau, Carter, and Kinch sitting at the table, playing cards. Hogan stood by the door of his office and stared into space. Old Jout followed his gaze and found his twenty-year-old self at the end of it, who lay in his bunk. He lay on his left side, which meant old Jout only saw his back._

 _Young Jout walked past him, sitting down on Carter's bunk. "Who's who?"_

 _Old Jout pointed to the man standing by the door, his brown leather jacket zipped hallway up and his crush cap on his head. "That's Rob."_

" _That's Rob!" young Jout exclaimed disbelieving. "He looks old."_

 _This comment made Jout laugh. "Well, he was thirty-one by then. Of course he looks older than when he was eighteen." He pointed to the common table in the middle of the room and said, "The small one dressed in red is LeBeau. He's French, and has a deadly temperament; so better to not aggravate him. The young sergeant next to him is Carter. He's the same age than me and sometimes a bit naïve. He was my first friend in here. The African-American opposite him is Kinch. He left the unit about a year ago because he couldn't stand to work with a homosexual like me," old Jout explained, his voice sounding bitter at the end. "And the man completely dressed in blue is Peter. He's an Englishman, born and raised in London's East End with the most attractive accent I've ever heard in my entire life."_

" _Apart from Kinch, all of them are deeply concerned for you. Your death would break all of their hearts; most prominently, Rob and Peter," young Jout announced._

 _He watched how is older self stared at the men in front of him, seemingly trying to decide what to do. Young Jout rose to his feet and opened the barracks' door, with that taking old Jout of his thoughts. The older man looked to the door and saw how a woman entered the room; it was Angel, who smiled softly at him._

" _Hello, Joshua," Angel said. "Finally, we meet again."_

" _What is she doing here?" old Jout asked, his gaze drifting to his younger self._

" _It is time to decide whether you want to go back to the living world, or follow Angle into Heaven," young Jout announced. "The choice is all yours."_

 _Old Jout first stared at the little boy who had taken him on this journey, and then at Angel, the woman who promised that he could meet his mother again. He began to think about all the people he had met on this journey, who all had undoubtedly an impact on his life; some were good, some were bad, and some were in between._

 _Suddenly, a voice behind him said, "Go back to the living world, Joshua."_

 _Jout whirled around, startled by the voice he instantly recognized. "Mom," he whispered. Seconds later, he ran towards her and threw his arms around her._

 _His mother began to stroke his hair while he placed his head on her shoulder. "My son! I have missed you so much."_

" _I've missed you too, Mom. So very much," he said. "That's why I consider going with Angel; so that we can be reunited again."_

 _His mother moved his head from her shoulder and gazed into his eyes. She moved with her thumb across his cheek and said, "But you have to go back to the living world. Your time has not yet come!"_

" _But, Mom –"_

" _Listen to me, Joshua," she interrupted. "Ever since I died, I have watched you; and witnessed how strong you have become. I saw what you had to endure, and it broke my heart. But when I look at you now, I see a young man who has endured so much hurtful things in his life and still gives so much love to the people around him. You forgave your brother, with that making him one of the happiest people around you. There's Peter, to whom you mean the world and who loves you with all his heart. And then there is Tommy, who looks up to you, who sees you as his father." His mother smiled at him and said, "I am so very proud of you, Joshua; of everything that you have become. And I will be proud of everything that is yet to come. Your future will be bright, my son. Don't throw it away because you want to see me again. We will meet again, Joshua; be sure of that."_

 _Tears were running down Jout's cheeks as he gave his mother another hug. "I love you, Mom."_

" _I love you too, Joshua." They stepped apart and she wiped her son's tears away with her thumb. "Now, go back to the people who care about you!"_

 _Jout sniffled, but managed to give his mother a smile. He turned around and went over to his younger self, but before he said anything to him, he turned around once more and looked at his mother for one last time. She greeted him with a reassuring smile, giving her son the strength to battle the pain that was lying ahead of him._

 _Jout turned to his younger self and said, "I'm ready to go back to the living world."_

 _Relief washed over young Jout's face. "That's good to hear." He opened the barracks' door one more time; however, this time, old Jout saw not the camp's compound, but only white. "All you have to do is take a step when you are ready."_

 _Old Jout stared at the white in front of him, then he lowered his glance to look at the little boy next to him. "Thank you for everything. I would surely be dead by now if it wasn't for you."_

" _You're welcome."_

 _Old Jout raised his glance again, and after taking a deep breath, he took a step forward into the white._

* * *

Newkirk stared down at the still form lying in the bunk in front of him, his heart aching. Exactly one weeks ago, Jout was brought back to camp after days of being tortured by some Gestapo major who tried to take down Papa Bear. And with every day Jout did not wake up, Newkirk grew more and more concerned. He knew he should not lose hope; he did not want to lose hope. But there were times like this, when he was sitting alone in Hogan's quarters, observing his unconscious boyfriend, that the dark clouds of doubts slowly clouded his mind. He sighed and rubbed with his hand across his face. No, he would not go down that road again. Jout would survive and eventually, they would get out of this rotten camp.

Newkirk stood up from his stool and walked out of the small room, only to come back moments later, a blue book in his hands. He sat back down and opened it. "I just realized ya 'aven't been able to read any of yer poems lately. Figured ya might enjoy it if I read a few to ya. But I 'ave to warn ya: I'm not really good in emphasisin' poetry right."

He searched for Jout's favourite poem and, without changing his accent since he knew Jout liked it, began to read aloud: [1]

" _Out of the night 'at covers me,_

 _Black as the pit from pole to pole,_

 _I thank whatever gods may be_

 _For me unconquerable soul._

 _In the fell clutch of circumstance_

 _I 'ave not winced nor cried aloud._

 _Under the bludgeonings of chance_

 _Me 'ead is bloody, but unbowed._

 _Beyond this place of wrath and tears_

 _Looms but the 'orror of the shade,_

 _And yet the menace of the years_

 _Finds, and shall find me, unafraid._

 _It matters not 'ow strait the gate,_

' _ow charged with punishments the scroll,_

 _I am the master of me fate –"_

"I am the captain of my soul," said a husky voice, making Newkirk look up from the book in his hands. He found himself staring into his boyfriend's very open chocolate brown eyes, a tired smile on the other man's face. "Hey, Peter."

Newkirk just stared at Jout, shocked that the other man was actually talking to him. A few seconds later, he quickly bent down, throwing his arms around his boyfriend, who in return placed his own hands on his back. "Oh, Josh, ya're alive!"

Newkirk sat up again, and as he stared into Jout's eyes, he lowered his head and placed his pale lips on his boyfriend's, giving him a deep kiss. When they broke apart, Newkirk immediately rose to his feet and ran across the room, tearing the door open. "Josh's awake!" he yelled, instantly returning to his place by Jout's bedside.

Jout gazed at the door, seeing how seconds later his brother and friends rushed into the small room. He gave them the same tired smile he had given Newkirk earlier and greeted, "Hey, guys!"

Hogan closed the distance between him and his brother and sat down on the edge of the bed, placing his hand on Jout's leg. Overjoyed that Jout finally woke up, he asked, "How are you feeling, Josh?"

"My body feels like it was put through a meat grinder," Jout answered. "But mostly I'm tired." A yawn that left his lips confirmed his statement.

"How can you be tired?" Carter asked, who by now had made his way over to the bunkbed, standing behind Newkirk. "You've been sleeping for one whole week."

"I've been what? What day is it?" Confusion was spread all over Jout's face.

"October 19th," Hogan said. "After you returned from the hospital, Wilson informed us that you were in a coma."

Right on cue, Wilson entered the adjoined room, who had been informed of Jout's awakening by Olson. "Look who has decided to return to us!" He went to the bunk bed and sat down where moments earlier Hogan had been sitting. "How are you feeling, Lieutenant?"

"Like I have already said, as if my body was put through a meat grinder…and I'm tired."

"That's no surprise. You will probably sleep most of the next days too. Your body still needs all the rest in can get to fully recover." Wilson began his examination by checking the size and movement of Jout's pupils. While he did that, he checked his patient's memory. "What is your name, rank, and serial number?"

Albeit confused by the medic's request, Jout said, "Hogan, Joshua Patrick, 1st Lieutenant, US Army Air Force, 0958731."

"Your birthday and hometown?"

"February 15th, 1923 in Bridgeport, Connecticut."

With the stethoscope in one ear, Wilson listened to Jout's heart and lung. With the other he listened to his patient's answers. "And what's the name, rank, serial number, and birthday of your brother?"

Even more confused than before, especially since his friends watched him fearfully, Jout replied, "Hogan, Robert Edward, Colonel, US Army Air Force, 0876707, July 13th, 1912." He raised his eyebrow and questioned, "Why are you asking me this? And why are the others looking so afraid?"

Wilson removed the stethoscope from his ear. "After you had been brought back to camp, Colonel Klink organized a transfer to the hospital because of your grave injuries. There you went into surgery, during which your heart stopped beating. That's why you've been in a coma the past week. And the reason why I asked you these questions was to determine whether you received brain damages during the time your heart did not beat."

"And?" Jout asked hesitantly.

"Judging from your excellent memory and the fact that you can talk to me without any difficulties, I would say your brain is left undamaged." The others sighed in relief, and Wilson's glance landed on Jout's bandaged left hand. He grabbed the hand and ordered, "Lieutenant, please squeeze my hand as hard as possible."

With all the strength he could muster, Jout tried to squeeze the other man's hand, but found that he was not able to move his fingers one bit. When another attempted also ended in a failure, Jout said with a fearful voice, "I can't move my fingers."

Hearing the fearful tone of his patient's voice, Wilson lay his hand back on the bed and assured, "The muscles, tendons, and nerves in your hand were damaged by the stab. But don't worry, Lieutenant; with constant training you can try to regain some of your functionality."

"Some?" Jout questioned.

"There's a high chance that you have lost some of the mobility in your hand. The same goes for your knee. But we will see in time." Wilson rose to his feet and announced, "For now, you should go back to sleep; your body needs all the rest it can get. We can worry about everything else later."

" _Mon ami_ , while you are sleeping, I will prepare your favourite dish for dinner," LeBeau announced.

"Thanks, LeBeau," Jout said as another yawn left his lips while he felt how his eyelids were getting heavier

"That's enough for now." While Wilson ushered the other men out, Jout turned to Newkirk and asked, "Will you stay with me?"

Newkirk smiled at him and brushed Jout's umber brown hair from his forehead. "Of course I will, luv."

Jout returned Newkirk's smile and closed his eyes, sleep quickly conquering his still exhausted body.

* * *

 **[1] - _Invictus_ by William Ernest Henley**


	26. Chapter 26

After dinner, which was a bit difficult for Jout since he could not use either of his hands and had to be fed by Newkirk, Klink appeared together with Schultz in the barracks to see Jout.

"But not for long, Kommandant" Hogan said while he walked to his quarters' door. "Our medic says he needs a lot of rest."

He knocked on the door to his quarters; a signal to Newkirk and Jout, indicating that someone was about to enter who could not know about their relationship. Hogan opened the door and stepped aside to let Klink and Schultz into the room.

Newkirk rose to his feet as soon as he spotted Klink, who instantly said, "Sit down, Corporal Newkirk. No need for any of that."

Newkirk sat down again and watched how Klink moved closer to the bunkbed. He had his eyes on the German colonel, and therefore he did not notice how Jout ever so slightly tensed up. It was not enough for the others to notice, and seconds later he relaxed again. However, he was not able to fool one person: his brother. Hogan saw the sheer terror that flicked through Jout's eyes, which vanished a split-second later. He made a mental note to ask his brother later.

"Good evening, Lieutenant Hogan," Klink greeted. "I see you are awake again. I started to worry about you."

Jout gave him a faint smile. "Thank you for your concern, Sir. But as you can see, I'm back on track."

"Yes, I see that. Well, I only wanted to pay you a quick visit and make sure that you are feeling well."

"I do, Sir. Not great, but well," Jout answered.

Klink looked around the room and began to retreat to the door. "Well, Lieutenant, I hope for a quick recovery. I don't want to see your spot empty any longer during roll call."

When Klink had left the small room, Schultz immediately exclaimed, "I'm so glad that you are back in camp, Lieutenant! You really had me worried."

"I'm glad to be back too, Schultz. Home sweet home."

Jout chuckled, and Hogan noticed that it was intended to conceal his brother's nervousness. So he walked over to Schultz, placed his hands on the big German's back and began to push him in the direction of the door. "That's enough for now, Schultz. My brother needs to rest."

"Oh, alright, Colonel Hogan," Schultz said as he walked out of the door.

Hogan shut it and turned around. "Newkirk, why don't you head for your bunk and go to sleep? You look like hell."

"I'm fine, gov'nor. Really." The stern expression on his CO's face told Newkirk that any attempt to argue would be futile. Therefore, he faked a yawn and said, "Actually, now 'at ya mention it, I feel a bit drowsy, Sir. Probably best to catch a bit of shut eye." Newkirk bent over and gave Jout a kiss to the forehead. "Sleep well, luv. I'll be back in the mornin'; right after roll call."

Jout watched how Newkirk walked across the room and called after him, "Sleep well too, Peter!" When his boyfriend had left the room, he gazed at his brother and asked, "Alright, what's so important as that you force Peter out of the room?"

Hogan sat down on the stool Newkirk had previously occupied and asked straightforward, "Are you afraid of Klink or Schultz?"

"Of course not! What gives you that idea?" A nervous laugh escaped his lips and Jout looked down at his bandaged left hand to avoid his brother's stare.

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe it was the panic I saw in your eyes, even though you did a great job at trying to hide it. I'm surprised Newkirk didn't notice it." Hogan placed a hand on Jout's right hand, which was still hold in place by the sling around his neck. "You don't have to be afraid of them, Josh; or any German guard of this camp for that matter. Their all harmless. And even if one of them decides to play up, I am here to handle that."

"I am not afraid of either Klink or Schultz, or any other German guard in this camp," Jout stated sternly, slapping Hogan's hand away with his left one. Though he could not move his fingers, he was still able to move the hand itself. "I know they're harmless. But…," his voice trailed off as he directed his glance on anything but his brother once again.

"But what?" Hogan inquired. "You can trust me, Josh. Nothing you tell me will leave this room."

Jout finally had the courage to face his brother, and Hogan was greeted with a pair of terrified brown eyes; a sight which broke his heart. "What about Fuhrmann?" Jout asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Hogan placed his hand once more on his brother's, giving it a light squeeze. "You don't have to worry about him any longer. He's dead." Jout gave him a confused yet at the same time relieved look. Hogan nodded and explained, "After you had been transferred to the hospital, I got in contact with Tiger, requesting her to bring Fuhrmann in our tunnel in the night. I was furious, and I had the full intention of killing him." He lowered his gaze upon the disapproving look of his brother. "But just when I was about to finish him off, I remembered what Mom said to me the day you were born: that I should always act honourable because you would look up to me. And then I thought about what you would say if you were there and I knew you would be disappointed in me. So I stopped myself and ordered Tiger to take him away while I was arranging a sub to pick him up and bring him to England. However, the next day I received a message from Tiger, saying that Fuhrmann was killed while trying to escape. Whether this is true or not I don't know."

Hogan looked up to meet his brother's stare, and saw a small smile on the other man's face. "I'm glad you didn't do it. You're not the kind of person who kills cold-blooded."

This statement made Hogan chuckle. "LeBeau said the same thing."

"Well, this shows how good your men know you, Rob." The two brothers shared a quick laugh, but then Jout bid his bottom lip as a thought struck him. "Say, what happened to John? Did London believe you when you told them?"

"At first, General Gallagher couldn't believe that his aide was a spy; however, in the end, he said he trusts you more than this Captain Stewart. When they confronted him, he denied everything, but the Military Police found evidence of his spying activity in his quarters. Captain Stewart was shot because of treason."

Hogan watched how Jout slowly nodded, a far-away gaze in his eyes. Therefore, Hogan decided to change the topic to something much more enjoyable; something he longed to tell his brother for days. "You know what?" he asked, with that making Jout focus his attention on him. With a broad grin, he said, "I'm engaged."

"No way!" Jout exclaimed. When Hogan only nodded, now an even bigger grin on his face because of the astonishment of his brother, Jout said, "I can't believe you finally asked her! Never thought you would have the guts for it." Jout was the only one Hogan had confined into his strong feelings for Tiger and his wish to marry her.

Hogan's face changed into a pout. "Thank you very much for your strong confidence in me," he said sarcastically.

"You're welcome," Jout grinned. "I'd give you a hug right now if it was not for the fact that every move I do hurts."

"Don't you dare! You are going to rest until Wilson says it's safe for you to get back on your feet. After all, I will need a best man for my wedding."

Jout's eyes grew big at his brother's statement, his jaw dropping to the floor. "You mean…me?"

"Of course I mean you!" Hogan ruffled Jout's hair. "You're my little brother. Who else would I want to be there with me?"

Jout tried to dodge his brother's hand with the restraint range of movement he had, failing miserably. When Hogan eventually stopped, both out of breath from laughing, Jout's eyes glazed over and he said sincerely, "I'm honoured, Rob. I really am."

Hogan had a lump in his throat at the tone of Jout's voice. He quickly pulled himself together and rose to his feet. "Well, it's getting late, isn't it? Best to turn in; contrary to you, I have a roll call to attend tomorrow morning."

* * *

 _Jout stood in the backyard of Gestapo headquarters, his hands handcuffed behind his back. He was held tightly by Fritz and Hans, and next to him stood Fuhrmann, an evil grin on his face. Jout's eyes were glued to the wall in front of him, watching how several soldiers pointed their rifles at a family standing in front of the wall; mother, father, and two small children._

" _I give you one last chance to do the right thing and tell me what I want to hear." Fuhrmann's voice rang through the backyard. "Either you tell me who Papa Bear is and everything else about his operation, or you refuse and I will give the order to shoot."_

 _Jout gazed at Fuhrmann, totally aghast. "You want to shoot an innocent family? What kind of sick bastard are you?"_

 _This comment earned Jout a blow to his jaw by Fuhrmann. Jout slumped a bit upon the force of the blow, but he was kept upright by Fritz and Hans._

" _Watch your mouth, Lieutenant!" Fuhrmann barked. "And don't forget that you are the one who could prevent such a sad outcome. All you have to do is tell me who Papa Bear is, and no one will be hurt. Not them, not you. My offer still stands."_

 _Jout glanced at the family, and the father gave him a pleading look._ _"Bitte, helfen Sie uns. Wir haben nichts getan!" ["Please, help us._ _We have done nothing wrong!"]_

 _Fuhrmann cleared his throat, which made Jout glance at him. "Time's up, Lieutenant. What is your decision?"_

 _Jout glanced back at the family and bid his lip. He could not believe what he was about to say. "I don't know who Papa Bear is or anything related to that term." He dropped his gaze to avoid looking at the family whose death warrant he had just signed._

 _Fuhrmann seemed also surprised as he asked, "Are you sure that's your last word? I hope you know what's at stake, Lieutenant."_

 _Jout slightly shook his head, his gaze still directed at the ground. "Yes, that's my final word."_

" _Alright," Fuhrmann said._

 _Jout raised his head again to look at the family, but somehow, they had disappeared. Instead of four strange faces, Jout suddenly saw himself confronted with two very familiar people. "No," he whispered._

" _How can you do this to us, Josh?" Ann asked, who had a tight grip around Tommy._

" _No…this can't be true," Jout said. "Where's the family?"_

" _We are the family. How can you allow that innocent civilians die?" Ann asked, her face showing her disappointment. "How can you let innocent children die?"_

" _You don't understand, Ann!" Jout screamed. "I had no choice!"_

 _Ann shook her head. "You always have a choice, Josh. And you just made the decision to be a murderer."_

" _Fertig…," Fuhrmann's voice rang out. ["Ready…"]_

" _NO!" Jout screamed as he struggled to free himself of Fritz and Hans' tight grip around his arms. "Please, no! I'm not a murderer!" He turned to Fuhrmann and pleaded, "Please, let them go! I tell you everything you want to know. Just don't kill them!"_

 _Fuhrmann's lips raised into a wicked grin. "Too late."_

" _NO!" Jout yelled once more as gunshots rang through the air. He watched how Ann and Tommy fell to the ground, a red pool of blood forming next to them. "NO!"_

* * *

Hogan was torn out of his sleep by screams ranging through his quarters. At first, he was totally confused, his drowsiness preventing him from immediately realizing what was going on. Only when another scream pierced through the room did he realize that those horrifying screams came from the occupant of the bottom bunk. Hogan threw his blanket away and jumped from the bunk, kneeling down next to his brother, who squirmed and writhed in his sleep. Jout's face was twisted in agony, showing the world that whatever he was dreaming about was not pleasant.

Hogan gently placed his hands on his brother's shoulders, careful to not apply too much pressure on Jout's broken collarbone. "Wake up, Josh! It's only a dream; you're alright now. Fuhrmann can't harm you," he tenderly said, concluding that Jout must have a nightmare concerning his torturer.

The door to his quarters flew open, and in bolted four sleepy-looking figures.

"What's goin' on?" asked Newkirk, his hair standing on end in various directions.

"Josh is having a nightmare," Hogan answered. "Quick! Someone has to keep his leg still; Wilson said any movement could damage the knee even more."

Carter and Baker moved forward, gripping the leg of their friend tightly to keep it still. However, this only seemed to intensify Jout's fear, because of which he increased his struggling and the volume of his screams.

Newkirk dropped to his knees next to Hogan, placing his hand on Jout's right one to keep him from hurting his broken collarbone. "Everythin's alright, luv. It's only a nightmare; ya're safe."

It took some time, but slowly, Jout's screams faded and his movements slowed down. Then, his eyes popped open and Jout found himself staring into the worried faces of his brother and boyfriend.

"What's happening?" he asked, his voice showing how drowsy he was. Jout blinked a few times and looked down at his feet when his sleepy mind registered that someone was holding his leg. "Why's everyone up? And why are Baker and Carter gripping my leg as if it runs away when they let go?"

"You had a nightmare, Josh. You have more or less shouted the barracks down," Hogan answered. He raised an eyebrow and questioned, "What was your dream about?"

Jout gulped. He could not tell his brother and friends what he had done while being in Fuhrmann's custody. If they learned about him being responsible for an innocent family's death, they would surely hate him; even though he only tried to save them. No, he had to prevent them from ever learning about what exactly had happened in Gestapo headquarters.

"I…I can't remember," Jout stammered. He raised his left hand to his temple and squeezed his eyes shut. "I only know that I'm developing a headache."

Hogan eyed his brother suspiciously. He had the feeling that Jout was hiding something, but he decided it was best to leave the matter until Wilson cleared Jout for debriefing. "Probably best if you go back to sleep," Hogan announced as he rose to his feet. "We all should go back to sleep again."

The men said goodnight and shuffled out of the room. Jout closed his eyes and waited for his brother to climb back into his bunk before he opened them again. Sleep would not conquer him again that night; of that he was sure. As Jout listened to the soft snores coming from the top bunk, he couldn't stop thinking about what Ann had said in his dream.

" _You always have a choice, Josh. And you just made the decision to be a murderer."_


	27. Chapter 27

The next day, Newkirk sat by Jout's bedside again; but now, he did not have to spend the time watching over his unconscious boyfriend. No, this time, he could talk with the love of his life.

" 'ow are ya feelin' today, luv?" Newkirk asked.

"My body still hurts, but this means that I'm alive, doesn't it?" Jout smirked.

"Yes, it does. Luckily." Newkirk tried to return Jout's smile, but failed. Something weighed heavily on his mind, but he did not know how approach it.

Jout noticed his boyfriend's tenseness, and asked concerned, "Is everything alright, Peter? It seems like something is on your mind."

"M'fine, Josh," Newkirk answered. He drove with his hand through his black hair and laughed. "But ya're right. Somethin' is naggin' me."

"What is it, Peter? Whatever is bothering you, feel free to share it with me."

Newkirk bit his bottom lip. "Well, lately I realized 'at I don't know ya as well as I thought. And it seems like ya are hidin' things from me."

A confused expression washed over Jout's face. "What on earth are you talking about?"

"Ya never told me ya can play the piano. I 'ad no idea about yer mother bein' born in England too." He lowered his glance and said, "And then there is the fact 'at ya hid yer apply for a British citizenship from me." Jout closed his eyes and sighed, which made Newkirk declare, "I barely know anythin' about yer past! Are ya not trusting me enough to talk with me about that kind of things?"

Jout opened his eyes again and saw the hurt expression in his boyfriend's face. Who would have thought that a sweet surprise could turn into argument about trust? "I trust you with my life, Peter. You have to believe me –"

"But 'ow come ya don't share yer past with me then? Ya know all about mine," Newkirk interrupted.

"Peter, this has nothing to do with me not trusting you enough to share details of my past with you." Jout placed his left hand on his stomach, hoping Newkirk would get the hint that he wanted to grab his hand. The Brit got it, and he placed his hand on top of the American's. "It has to do with me trying to forget everything that happened in my past. But now I realize that this is wrong. My past might not be as bright and enjoyable as the past of others, but it made me who I am today. And since you seem to love the person I am today, this person can't be all to bad." A soft smile appeared on Jout's face, which was copied by Newkirk. "And now to the things you addressed. The reason why I never told anyone that I can play the piano is that I only learned it to avoid beatings from my father; something I desperately tried to forget."

" 'ow come tryin' to avoid beatin's made ya learn to play the piano?" Newkirk asked.

"My church's minister, Reverend Adler, taught me. When I was able to escape a beating from my father, I would hide for hours out of fear to return home because I knew that he was awaiting me. Most of this time I spent at the church since I knew my father would never put a step in this building. This didn't stay unnoticed of course. Reverend Adler approached me one day and asked me why I was not at home; I dodged his question, but he must have realized that I was really afraid of whatever I was avoiding. And so he asked if I wanted to learn how to play the piano and organ. I agreed; and it really did help. I still got bashed when I returned home, but for a few hours each day I was able to forget what awaited me." Jout took a deep breath. "But when someone asked me to play the piano a few years later while I was in the military, pictures of my father beating me black and blue appeared in front of my eyes every time I played it. And so I abandoned and avoided the piano, to protect myself from those pictures."

Newkirk squeezed Jout's hand tenderly. "It's a ruddy shame ya abandoned it. I loved listenin' to ya playin' on Fuhrmann's party; it was the only enjoyable thin' 'at evenin'." The last statement was accompanied by a soft smile.

"Well, seems like it was the first and last time you got to hear me playing," Jout said while raising his left hand. "It's hard to play with a useless hand."

"Don't think like 'at, Josh! The feelin' in yer fingers will return, and yer 'and will be as good as new when it 'ealed."

Jout shrugged. "If you say so. Anyways, concerning the nationality of my mother that I haven't revealed to you, you have to know one thing. Last year, when I told you about her death, was the first time I talked about her with someone important to me in thirteen years. The day Rob left was the last time I talked about her; and I also pretty much stopped thinking about her. Her memory was – is – simply incredible hurtful for me. Every time I do talk about her, I'm getting depressed and sad; and I don't want to feel those feelings when I'm with you." Jout raised his bandaged hand to Newkirk's face and attempted to stroke his cheek. He had no idea how hard he was pressing on his boyfriend's face, but he tried to be as gentle as possible. "I don't want to destroy the limited time we have together in here with making you feel sad for me. I want us to enjoy our time together."

"Oh, Josh," Newkirk said as he placed his hand on top of Jout's hand, moving it to his mouth and kissing his fingers. "I always enjoy the time we spend together; no matter what we do or what we talk about. And if ya feel the need to talk about yer mother with me, I want ya to do it. I want ya to know 'at whatever is troublin' ya, ya can always come to me."

"Thank you, Peter. And I want you to know that you can ask me anything about my past; whatever you want to know."

Newkirk nodded. "I will, luv. But tell me, why 'aven't ya told me about yer apply for the British citizenship? I mean, this isn't a sad topic."

Jout eyes him curiously. "How do you know about that?"

"While ya were unconscious, a message from the Immigration Office came in. The Colonel read it, and it said 'at yer apply was approved."

"It is?" Jout asked, his eyes beaming and his mouth raising into a broad smile. When Newkirk nodded, he explained, "I meant no harm by not telling you about it. I wanted to surprise you with a hopefully approved apply on our anniversary tomorrow. I'm sorry that it made you wonder whether or not I trust you."

"Oh," was all Newkirk said. Then his lips curled into a smile too. "Well, it definitely is a surprise; a very sweet one, by the way."

"It was intended to show you that I'm serious about moving to London for you." Jout gestured at his body. "Seems like we can't sneak off to town like planned to celebrate our anniversary. I'm sorry."

"Don't ya dare bein' sorry!" Newkirk exclaimed. He stretched his hand out and began to stroke his boyfriend's smooth cheek. "For the past week, I didn't know whether ya would ever wake up again or not. Talkin' to ya is more than I could 'ave ever 'oped for." He leaned down, giving Jout a quick peck on his lips. "We'll just spend the day together, sharin' a delicious meal from LeBeau while talkin' and maybe cuddlin'; depending on 'ow ya feel. We will simply enjoy each other's company."

Newkirk kissed Jout again, this time running his tongue across his boyfriend's lips and probing his mouth open. Jout complied, and he instantly felt Newkirk's tongue moving around his mouth and stroking his own tongue. He had to moan, which was muffled by Newkirk's lips on his own.

Upon hearing Jout moan, Newkirk quickly pulled away and said, "M'sorry."

"For what?" Jout asked confused. "I liked what you we were doing."

"I thought I 'urt ya. The bruise on yer jaw looks quite nasty," Newkirk pointed to the mark on Jout's jaw, which had changed its colour from blue to green.

"I didn't even know I had a bruise there," Jout said. Then he grinned mischievously. "But I know that I liked what you were doing with your clever tongue."

"Oh, is 'at so?" Newkirk asked, an equally mischievous smile on his face.

Jout nodded slowly, and Newkirk leant down for another round of lip service. After minutes of sweet passion, the two men broke apart, completely out of breath. Jout's gaze drifted through the room and landed on his poetry book that lay on the nightstand.

"After the war, I'll need a picture of us to stick it on one of the empty pages in my poetry book," Jout announced out of the blue.

"Why?" Newkirk questioned, confused at the sudden change of topic.

"Just like I have a picture of Henri next to his favourite poem, I want a picture of you and me next to the poem that reminds me of us two," Jout explained.

" 'ow is it called?"

"Sonnet 116 by William Shakespeare." Jout saw the perplexed look on his boyfriend's face and added, "I know, it doesn't sound very spectacular, but it is a beautiful piece of poetry that makes me think of you. You want to hear it?"

"Absolutely," Newkirk said.

Knowing the poem by heart, Jout did not need the book to recite it:

" _Let me not to the marriage of two minds_

 _Admit impediments. Love is not love_

 _Which alters when it alteration finds,_

 _Or bends with the remover to remove:_

 _O, no! it is an ever-fixed mark,_

 _That looks on tempests and is never shaken;_

 _It is the star to every wandering bark,_

 _Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken._

 _Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks_

 _Within his bending sickle's compass come;_

 _Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,_

 _But bears it out even to the edge of doom._

 _If this be error and upon me proved,_

 _I never writ, nor no man ever loved."_

Jout smiled sheepishly at his boyfriend as he asked, "What do you say?"

"This is without a doubt the most beautiful poem I 'ave ever 'eard." Newkirk smirked. "But no wonder. Old Shakespeare is English, after all."

They shared a laugh at Newkirk's boasting, and when it died down, Jout made a split-second decision.

He bid his bottom lip before saying, "You know, Peter, I have something to tell you. For quite some time now, I've been thinking about our plans for after the war: living together in London, owning a tailoring together. That's all well and good, but it's not enough. I don't want to spend the rest of my life with you, without the people around us knowing what I feel for you…how important you are to me. I want the world to know that you are the love of my life, and to promise you my whole being." Jout took a deep breath and asked, "If you can imagine marrying a chap with a useless hand and knee, I will be the happiest person on earth." Jout was greeted with a shocked expression on Newkirk's face. When the other man did not react, he asked, "Peter?", now doubting his split-second decision.

Newkirk quickly recovered from his shock and exclaimed, "Blimey, Josh! Ya gave me a right 'eart attack!"

"I what?" Jout asked, totally confused by his boyfriend.

"I thought ya were goin' to break up!" He squeezed Jout' hand and said, "Of course I want to marry ya. But ya realize 'at we can't do 'at officially, don't ya? The government doesn't give two blokes a marriage licence."

"I would never break up with you. Never," Jout said. "And right now, I think I'm experiencing a déjá vu." Newkirk gave him a questioning look and he explained, "When Henri had asked me to marry him, I practically reacted like you. And now I'm giving you the same reply he gave me: that we can't get a marriage licence doesn't prevent us from promising each other love and commitment. And it doesn't prevent us from wearing matching rings." Jout's laid his bandaged hand on Newkirk's hand that lay on his stomach. "And now I'm adding something from me: a piece of paper doesn't make the relationship of two people a marriage. It is the commitment of two people to one another, promising each other love, trust, and fidelity that makes a relationship a marriage."

" 'at's the sweetest thin' I 'ave ever 'eard somebody sayin'," Newkirk announced while leaning down to give his boyfriend – now fiancé – another kiss.

When they disengaged again, Jout smirked. "No wonder. I'm half-English."


	28. Chapter 28

_Two days later…_

"Deep breaths, Lieutenant," Wilson instructed, stethoscope in his ears.

Once more, he listened to Jout's heart and lung. The heart rate was long stable again, and now he did not worry anymore about the possibility that Jout's heart might stop again. No, his patient's heart was not the source of concern for Wilson. It was the slight rustle he was able to make out while the American lieutenant breathed. Not wonder, considering the wet clothes he was brought back in and the broken ribs; a deadly combination. Literally. Pneumonia in his state, not able to move on bit, with the ice-cold temperatures outside was something Wilson dreaded. And with the war seemingly being in the final stages, it was getting more and more difficult to receive supplies from London. No, Wilson definitely could do without adding pneumonia to the long list of things to look after. Hearing the rustle again made him sigh. Wilson pulled the stethoscope out of his ears and placed his palm on Jout's forehead, feeling his temperature; slightly increased.

Wilson bent down to put the stethoscope away and to retrieve the thermometer as he heard Hogan asking, "How does it look, Wilson?"

While rummaging around his bag, Wilson answered, "His heart rate is back to normal; nothing we have to worry about anymore. His lung is my main concern now." He found the thermometer and stuck it into Jout's mouth, ordering, "Keep your mouth shut. Otherwise the temperature will be wrong."

"What's the problem with his lung?" Hogan questioned, gazing worriedly at his brother.

"The rustle I can hear while he breathes worries me. Considering the wet clothes he was brought in combined with the broken ribs and the fact that he can barely move, I suggest that Lieutenant Hogan is developing pneumonia. And if I can remember correctly, he already had the beginning of pneumonia last year; something that adds to my suspicion."

"What can ya do to fight it?" Newkirk asked, sitting by his boyfriend's head.

Wilson looked at his watch and removed the thermometer from Jout's mouth: 38 degree Celsius, or 100 degree-Fahrenheit. Not good.

"He has elevated temperature," Wilson announced. He cleaned the thermometer and put it back in his bag. "We still have some antibiotics left. I will give them to him; they should reduce the temperature a bit." He turned to Hogan and said, "I wouldn't worry too much, Sir, but still, we should try to cool him down. Best is to put a wet cloth on his forehead, which should be renewed after some time. I wouldn't do more right now. Maybe his temperature will already be back to normal by tomorrow."

"Alright." Hogan nodded. He waited until the medic had put everything back in his medical back and left with Wilson his quarters. When he closed the door behind him, he asked, his voice low, "Do you think I can start debriefing him now. It's been two days since he woke up; usually I debrief my men immediately after."

Wilson looked a bit unsure. "Has he already talked about what happened while he was with the Gestapo."

Hogan shook his head. "Not one word. He had some nightmares the last nights; woke up screaming and writhing. But every time I asked him about his dreams, he said he couldn't remember."

Wilson thought for a moment, then he began to slowly nod. "Alright. You can start debriefing him." Hogan nodded and turned around, but stopped when Wilson said, "But be careful, Colonel. People who have experienced torture often try to repress their memories. And being pushed into talking usually causes the exact opposite."

"Thank you, Wilson."

Hogan went to the sink in the common room and made a cloth wet. After that, he went back into his room and closed the door behind him. He crossed the room, grabbing the stool from his desk and placing it next to the bunkbed. Hogan put the cloth on his brother's forehead and sat down on the stool.

He thought for a moment how to start a conversation he wished he would not need to have with his little brother. In the end, Hogan decided that being straightforward would be the best. "Josh, I know you probably don't want to talk about it, but you need to tell me what exactly happened in Gestapo headquarters. What has Fuhrmann wanted to know? What has he done to you?"

Jout turned his gaze to the left, staring against the wall. "I don't remember."

Hogan sighed. "You are giving me this answer for days now, and I don't believe it. You must remember something."

"But I don't, alright!" Jout yelled. He glared at his brother and said, "The last thing I remember is being escorted to Fuhrmann's car by his two sidekicks. Not my problem if you're not satisfied by that; if you rather wanted to know all the juicy details about my torture." Jout gestured at his body. "Seems like I have not given Fuhrmann what he wanted, which almost got me killed."

Hogan was taken aback by his brother's tantrum. "Josh, I would rather not need to have this conversation, but I can't change what happened. And since I'm the CO of this outfit, I need to know what Fuhrmann already knew, and what he wanted to know."

"Well, I'm sorry, but I can't help you. Looks like the only person who could give you an answer was Fuhrmann, who is dead," Jout stated.

Newkirk placed a hand on Jout's arm and said, "We only want to 'elp ya, Josh."

Jout slapped Newkirk's hand away, with that shocking his boyfriend. "You two would help me by leaving me alone. I'm starting to develop a headache and I'm getting tired."

"Josh," Hogan began.

"Please!" Jout interrupted. "Just leave me alone."

Hogan averted his gaze from his brother and stared at Newkirk, whose face showed traces of worry and astonishment, as well as hurt. He sighed and looked back at his brother, seeing that he had already closed his eyes. Hogan motioned for Newkirk to follow him to the main room.

As soon as he had closed the door, Newkirk exclaimed, "Blimey! Why won't Josh talk to us?"

"Wilson says people who have experienced torture often repress their memories; and the more we push him into talking, the more Josh will refuse to open up," Hogan explained. "I think we just have to give him more time. Now the memories are still fresh."

Newkirk snorted and shook his head while sitting down at the common table. "Gov'nor, ya really expect me to act as if nothin' 'appened when 'e wakes up again in the night, screamin' and writhin' because 'e's bein' tormented by memories of Fuhrmann torturin' 'im?"

"I haven't said it's going to be easy." Hogan went over to the stove and poured himself a cup of coffee and Newkirk a cup of tea. He placed the two cups on the table and sat down opposite of him. "I say we'll wait and see. I'm sure he will talk to us when he is ready. Until then, we simply support him in any way he lets us."

Newkirk gazed into his cup, eventually nodding. "I only 'ope 'e comes around soon. I'm goin' stir-crazy only guessin' what this bastard 'as done to 'im."

* * *

Later that day, after roll call, everyone occupied himself in the main room. LeBeau was preparing dinner, Newkirk, Carter, and Baker played cards, and Hogan watched them while drinking a cup of lukewarm ersatz coffee. Suddenly, a scream tore through the barracks from the adjoined room, making everyone jump up and ran towards the scream. When Hogan pushed the door open, he was greeted by a familiar picture: Jout writhing in his bunk, his face twisted in agony, while screams left his lips.

"You know the drill, guys," Hogan said as he walked over to the bunk, kneeling down next to it. Newkirk did the same while Carter and Baker tried to keep his left leg still.

At the touch, Jout began to struggle even more and exclaimed, "NO! Please, don't!"

Hogan put his hands slightly on his brother's shoulders and softly said, "It's only a nightmare, Josh. You are safely back in camp, and no one can harm you."

His words did not seem to help. Jout continued to writhe and scream, pleading for something to not happen; just like he did the last days while having a nightmare. "Please, no…NO!"

"Josh, luv, I'm 'ere, the gov'nor's 'ere, we are all 'ere for ya. Ya don't 'ave to be afraid," Newkirk said, trying to soothe his boyfriend.

After some time, in which Hogan and Newkirk continued to talk, Jout slowly began to stop struggling and the screams faded down. Then he woke up with a start, panting and with wide eyes.

A bit dazed, Jout asked, "I suppose I had another nightmare?" Hogan merely nodded. Jout squirmed and drove with his hand over his forehead. "Could someone please open the window? I'm roasting in here."

Hogan narrowed his eyes and pressed his palm against his brother's forehead, which was sweaty and felt like burning up. Hogan turned and ordered, "LeBeau, go get Wilson! Tell him Josh's temperature is increasing instead of dropping." He directed his glance back to his brother, who had his eyes closed again. "Hey! No sleeping now," Hogan said and shook him.

Jout groaned and slowly opened his eyes, blinking. "What's going on?"

"How are you feeling besides feeling warm?"

"I'm thirsty and tired…and I feel muzzy," Jout declared.

Newkirk grabbed the cup of water on the nightstand while Hogan helped Jout to sat upright. Newkirk placed the cup at his boyfriend's mouth and helped him to drink. As he put the cup back on the nightstand, the door was opened once again and Wilson appeared in the room.

"LeBeau said his temperature has increased?" Wilson questioned.

"That's right," Hogan answered while he and Newkirk backed away to give the medic room to work. "He's also feeling dazed as well as thirsty and tired."

Wilson frowned upon hearing those symptoms, which are usually no accompaniment of a pneumonia. However, considering the physical state of his patient, there were enough sources for these kinds of symptoms. Wilson searched in his medical back for the thermometer and once he had found it, put it in Jout's mouth. As he waited for the outcome, Wilson observed the American lieutenant; his sight was unfocused and it looked like he was on his way into unconsciousness. Wilson did not like this degradation in Jout's state of health at all.

He looked at his watch and took the thermometer from Jout's mouth. His brow furrowed as he announced, "39 degree Celsius or 102-degree Fahrenheit. He has a high fever."

" 'at are two degrees more than in the mornin'!" Newkirk exclaimed.

"Shouldn't the antibiotics have reduced his temperature by now, or at least prevented that it increased?" Hogan asked.

"They should have," Wilson confirmed. "But maybe the amount I gave him was not enough. I still have some left; I will give them to him, but they are my last."

Wilson searched in his bag for the antibiotics and gave them to Newkirk, so that the Brit could help Jout to ingest them. He also looked for his stethoscope to listen to his patient's heart beat and breathing once again; better safe than sorry. For the third time this day, Wilson did not like what he was hearing. Jout had a quickened heart rate and an increased breathing frequency.

"His heart beat and breathing are faster than they should be," Wilson announced, putting the stethoscope back into his bag.

"Is 'at normal for pneumonia?" Newkirk inquired.

Wilson answered by shaking his head. "But considering the amount of injuries Lieutenant Hogan has received, the symptoms could be contradicting each other." He received questioning looks from the men in the room and explained, "It means that his body is overwhelmed by the amount of damage and therefore reacts with different kind of symptoms that are not connected to each other. I say we just wait and see. If his status has worsened by tomorrow, then we should begin to worry."

"What should we do until then?" Hogan asked, concerned that his brother worsened again after waking up from a week-long coma.

"Keep the cloth on his forehead always wet. Make also sure that Lieutenant Hogan drinks enough. If you feel that his temperature is still high, you can try to cool him down with leg compresses. That's all you can do for now," Wilson announced.

Hogan nodded and Wilson left the small room.

"I don't like where this is goin', gov'nor," Newkirk said while removing the cloth on his boyfriend's head, giving it to LeBeau so that the Frenchman could renew it. He looked down at Jout, who was already sleeping again. "First, 'e is in a coma for a whole week and now 'is complete 'ealth status is gradually gettin' worse."

"I don't like it either," Hogan agreed. "But like Wilson said; for now, we can only wait and hope his temperature is decreasing again."

LeBeau re-entered Hogan's quarters and handed the cloth over to Newkirk, who laid it back on Jout's forehead. "Ya know, gov'nor, I'm slowly gettin' sick of doin' nothin' and only sittin' on the side lines."

"But sometimes, Peter, this is the only thing we can do," Hogan answered, leaving his quarters with the rest of his men. He hated waiting for something to happen as much as Newkirk did, but he knew that if he was going crazy right now, it would not help his brother. Therefore, Hogan decided to pay Klink a visit; it always cheered him up to mess with the German colonel. And maybe, just maybe, Jout was already feeling better when he returned.


	29. Chapter 29

The next day, Newkirk continued to watch over his feverish boyfriend while the rest of the barracks' occupants were on a work detail outside of Hammelburg. Hogan only reluctantly accepted Klink's offer since he hated the thought of not being there in case his brother got any worse, but he knew he needed to make contact with the underground. London wanted a factory destroyed and Hogan needed the help of the underground in reconnoitre the surroundings.

Newkirk placed his palm on Jout's forehead and felt his temperature. He sighed, feeling the heat emanating. Wilson had checked Jout's temperature in the morning, which had increased once again. Now it was at 40 degree Celsius or 104-degree Fahrenheit. The whole night, Jout had drifted in and out of consciousness, waking up now and then in a delirium of fever. The only thing Newkirk could do was help him drink and renew the cloth on his forehead and his leg compresses, but it did not seem to help.

A groan took Newkirk out of his thoughts. He looked down at the bunk in front of him and saw how Jout fought to open his eyes. Newkirk began to stroke his cheek and softly said, "Good mornin', luv."

"Peter," Jout croaked out.

"Are ya thirsty?" Newkirk asked.

Jout nodded and therefore, Newkirk tried to sit him up. But with Jout being too exhausted to move any part of his body, Newkirk was unable to hold him upright while reaching around for the cup on the nightstand. He looked down at his boyfriend in his arms, who had closed his eyes again and leant against his shoulder. This gave Newkirk an idea, and he pushed Jout forward while slipping in behind him on the bunk. He pulled Jout between his legs and reclined him on his chest. Now he could hold him with his left arm around his chest and reach for the cup with his right hand. Newkirk helped Jout to drink the whole cup of water, placing it back on the nightstand while continuing to hold Jout close to his chest. Jout turned his head, which lay on Newkirk's right shoulder, to the left, making his lips brush across his boyfriend's neck. Newkirk flinched a bit at feeling the heat against the sensitive skin of his neck, which increased his worry at the same time. Jout was burning up and there was nothing he could.

"I'm sorry," Jout mumbled against Newkirk's neck.

"For what?" Newkirk asked perplexed.

"For snapping at you and Rob," Jout said. "I know you only worry about me, and I had no right to talk to you the way I did. I hope you can forgive me."

Newkirk squeezed Jout in his arms and moved his boyfriend's left hand to his lips, kissing it tenderly. "Ya 'ave done nothin' 'at needs me forgiveness."

There was no response, instead he only felt a steady breath against his neck, which made Newkirk look down. He was greeted with the sight of Jout sleeping peacefully against his shoulder. A bittersweet smile found its way on Newkirk's face as he climbed out of the bunk and carefully laid Jout back down. He brushed some of his umber brown hair from his sweaty forehead and took the cloth from the nightstand to make it wet again. Oh, how he hoped that Jout's temperature would decline again.

* * *

Early in the afternoon, Hogan and his men watched nervously how Wilson checked Jout's temperature once again. As the medic looked at the thermometer, his face changed into a defeated expression.

Wilson raised is glance and stared at Hogan. "40,3 degree Celsius or 104.5-degree Fahrenheit." He drove with his hands over his face and sighed. "I am at my wit's end! The antibiotics should have worked by now." He knelt down and put the thermometer back in his medical bag.

"You said that the symptoms may be contradicting each other. Could this be the reason why the antibiotics don't work?" Hogan asked.

"It could be, but only if…," Wilson's voice trailed off.

Hogan watched how the medic stopped speaking in the middle of the sentence and stared blankly into space. "Wilson? Something's wrong?"

"Dammit!" Wilson exclaimed as he rushed into a standing position and began to unbutton Jout's pyjama shirt. "Why haven't I thought of it before?"

"What's going on?" Hogan asked while he observed how Wilson threw the shirt open.

The medic began to unwrap the bandage around Jout's stomach while he explained, "I was so focused on thinking that Lieutenant Hogan has pneumonia, that I completely forgot about the possibility of him having an infection." Wilson removed the bandage, revealing a bright red circle around the stitched-up stabbing wound. "That explains it."

"That explains what?" Carter piped up.

"There must have been bacteria on the knife's blade that Major Fuhrmann used to stab Lieutenant Hogan. When the knife entered his body, the bacteria also entered his body. Over the course of the last days, the bacteria have spread in his whole body because of the blood-system. Lieutenant Hogan's high fever, combined with his quickened heart beat and breathing frequency is his body's way of fighting the infection," Wilson announced.

"But now 'at ya know the source, ya can fight it, right?" Newkirk asked, his voice full of hope.

Wilson pressed gently on the stab wound, which elicited a painful groan from Jout. Then he looked back at the Brit and said, "I'm afraid it's not as easy as you might think."

"What's the problem?" Hogan inquired, his tone a mixture of concern and commanding authority.

"If I consider all the symptoms and rule out pneumonia, the only explanation for Lieutenant Hogan's constitution is a sepsis. There's not really a way to treat it; the only thing I can do is to give him penicillin and hope that this will fight the bacteria in his body before it comes to organ failure."

"Then do it," Hogan ordered.

"That's the problem," Wilson said. "I don't have penicillin."

"Hasn't London just sent supplies? Why haven't you added it?"

Wilson rose to his feet. "I did, Colonel. But London has not sent penicillin because it's very hard to get your hands on it and they needed everything on the front."

Suddenly, Jout began to shake, his teeth clattering. Wilson rushed to his knees and asked, "What's the problem, Lieutenant?"

"So…cold," Jout muttered, his eyes pressed shut.

"I need some blankets…and his jacket!" Wilson turned to Hogan and said, "Another sign for a sepsis; the chills."

Hogan directed is gaze at Baker and ordered, "Radio London and tell them we need penicillin. ASAP. If they won't do it, get me."

Baker nodded and quickly left the small room. At the same time, LeBeau and Carter returned with multiple blankets and Jout's jacket. Wilson took the jacket from Carter and gave it to Newkirk, who dressed his boyfriend in it. LeBeau and Carter put the blankets on top of their friend, who was now wrapped in five blankets plus his jacket.

Jout squirmed and murmured, "Get the blankets off me…so warm."

"Lieutenant, you have a really high fever combined with the chills. You need these blankets and the leg compresses. I know it's not a nice feeling, but there is nothing I can do at the moment," Wilson explained to the half-conscious man.

To prove the medic's statement, Jout began to shiver again. "Don't…like it," he whispered.

The door opened again and Baker stepped in. "Colonel Hogan, London refuses to send penicillin. Says the soldiers on the front need it."

"And what are we?" Newkirk yelled. "Good enough to risk our lives to blow up some factories or bridges, but when one of us fights for 'is life because 'e 'as protected this bleedin' operation, we are just some ruddy POWs or what?"

"Don't worry, Peter. I will change their mind," Hogan declared, leaving his quarters with Baker.

"I really 'ope ya do, gov'nor," Newkirk said to no one in particular. He drove lightly across the strained features of his boyfriend's face and whispered, "I really 'ope ya do."

* * *

With the help of General Gallagher and a lot of yelling, Hogan was able to convince London to send a plane that carries penicillin. Since Wilson said that Jout would need it immediately to prevent possible organ failure, Carter and LeBeau took the risk and went out in broad daylight. While waiting for the two men to return, Newkirk sat together with Hogan and Wilson in the Colonel's quarters.

Wilson checked the American's temperature for the umpteenth time. "His temperature elevated once more. It's now 40,7 degree Celsius or 105.2-degree Fahrenheit." He turned to Hogan and said, "I really hope Carter and LeBeau come back soon; Lieutenant Hogan needs the penicillin right now or else it will be too late."

Hogan looked down at his watch. "I'm sure they are back every second. They have to be more careful since it's broad daylight."

A groan from the bunk made all three men turn around and they watched how Jout slowly opened his eyes.

Newkirk immediately brushed with his fingers through the other man's hair and said, " 'ey, luv. 'ow are ya feelin'?"

"I'm warm," Jout answered. He pushed the blankets that covered him away, which he instantly regretted because he began to shiver.

Newkirk put the blankets back over his boyfriend. "Ya just 'ave to 'old on a bit longer, luv. Louis and Andrew are back in a tick with the penicillin, and then ya'll feel better."

Jout closed his eyes again and Newkirk thought he went back to sleep. He was proved wrong when he heard Jout softly whispering, "Peter…"

Newkirk bent down and moved his head closer to Jout. "What is it, luv?"

"I love you, Peter; with all my heart. I hope you know that," Jout murmured. "In case this ends badly –"

"Don't start with this," Newkirk cut him off. "Everythin' will turn out perfectly fine. The infection will go away, and then we can concentrate on yer 'and and knee."

"But, Peter…"

"No buts! Ya just 'ave to fight for a little longer, and before ya know it, we'll walk through the compound again, annoyin' the guards," Newkirk softly encouraged while stroking across Jout's cheek with his thumb.

He heard the door open, which made Newkirk avert his gaze from his feverish boyfriend. In stepped Carter and LeBeau, who each held a bag in their hands.

While LeBeau took the bag from Carter and handed them over to Wilson, Carter rambled, "Boy, was that something! Wherever you looked, there were Krauts patrolling the area. And when the plane dropped the box, we already heard shots in the distance!"

"Carter!" Hogan interrupted.

"Sorry, Sir," Carter mumbled.

During the exchange, Wilson had taken out a syringe from one of the bags and filled it with the liquid from the small bottle that was also in the bags. He removed the blankets a bit and grabbed Jout's left arm, pushing the needle into the skin. Wilson pushed down on the syringe, with that giving the American lieutenant the much-needed medicine. Then he removed the syringe and put it back in a small box that he put back into the bag.

Wilson turned to Hogan and said, "I will check on him after roll call. Until then, keep it up with the cloth on his forehead and the leg compresses."

"Ya really think this will make the fever go down?" Newkirk asked.

"It's the only option we have," Wilson declared. "If this fails, Lieutenant Hogan will die."

* * *

Shortly after evening roll call, Langenscheidt entered the barracks with Wilson in tow. The medic immediately headed towards Hogan's quarters, while Langenscheidt stayed back and asked, "Ahem…Colonel Hogan?"

"Yes, Langenscheidt?" Hogan replied. His tone was neutral, not particular happy since he wanted to join Wilson in his quarters, but also not really angry because he knew the German corporal intended no harm.

"How is Lieutenant Hogan doing?"

Hogan sighed. "It looks bad, Langenscheidt. Really bad."

Langenscheidt lowered his glance and nervously fidgeted with his hands. He looked around as if checking if there was someone who could overhear their conversation. Then Langenscheidt directed his glance back at the American colonel in front of him and said in a low voice, "I'm sorry for what happened to your brother, Colonel. Please be sure to know that not all Germans think like the Gestapo. There are many out there who hate what has happened to their beloved home country. They…we are simply too afraid to voice it out loud."

Hogan was touched by the young man's remarks. He knew the risk Langenscheidt was taking by voicing this to him; if the wrong person heard their conversation, the corporal would face a firing squad.

"I know that, Langenscheidt." Hogan placed a hand on the other man's shoulder and said, "I'll make sure that the world will learn about them as well as about the bad guys after the war. You can be sure about that."

Langenscheidt flashed him a small smile and quickly turned around. "I'll be waiting for Sergeant Wilson outside the barracks." When he reached the door, he turned around once more and said, "I hope Lieutenant Hogan will be better soon."

"I hope that too, Langenscheidt," Hogan answered as he walked into his quarters.

He arrived just in time to see Wilson removing the thermometer from his younger brother's mouth. The medic looked at it and then at Hogan, a smile forming on his face. "40 degree Celsius or 104-degree Fahrenheit. His temperature is dropping!" Everyone in the small room sighed in relief. Wilson bent down and retrieved another syringe and the small bottle from his bag, preparing another penicillin shot for Jout. "Now, I know it's not much and Lieutenant Hogan is still not over the hump, but we're heading into the right direction."

"Whatever ya say, Wilson. I'm 'appy about every little progress!" Newkirk exclaimed as he happily grabbed the cloth on Jout's forehead. He gave it to Carter, who left the room to make it wet again.

From all the turmoil, Jout slowly woke up and mumbled, "What's all the fuss about?"

"Yer temperature 'as dropped!" Newkirk informed his boyfriend.

A smile circled around his lips and Jout asked, "It has?" When Hogan confirmed it, Jout added, "That's good to hear. Hopefully my body soon decides whether it feels cold or warm. Both at the same time is quite annoying."

This statement made the man chuckle, the first sign of joy in days.

"I'm sure it will, Lieutenant. The penicillin will fight the infection, which will slowly end your chills and then your fever. In a few days, you will be as right as rain again," Wilson illustrated.

Jout nodded and closed his eyes again, sleep once again conquering his body. Everyone except Hogan and Newkirk left the small room, and Hogan walked over to the Brit. He placed a hand on his shoulder and said, "I told you, Peter. _Hope dies last_."


	30. Chapter 30

_Two weeks later…_

It had taken some days for the penicillin to do its work, but Jout was finally fever-free again and had survived the infection without a further incident. Now he was back on his feet again; well, not literally. Jout still could not move his left leg without causing a painful throbbing from his knee, and Wilson said it would take at least another month until he could carefully take his first steps. But there was a light at the end of the tunnel: he had regained the feeling in his left hand's fingers. Though Jout could still not move them, he was able to feel if someone touched his fingertips. Therefore, Wilson filled a sock with dirt and gave it to him as a "training object". Whenever he had nothing to do, he should try to knead it; according to Wilson, constantly trying to move his fingers would increase the potential of functionality. And since Jout had nothing much to do while lying in his brother's quarters, he tried to knead the sock almost the whole day. Until now, there was no progress and he slowly grew frustrated not being able to move his fingers. However, Wilson said he should be patient and wait for his muscles, nerves, and tendons to be fully healed before expecting any progress. Another good thing was that his collarbone was so far healed that he did not have to wear a sling anymore. Albeit not completely healed, which meant Jout still had to be careful when moving his arm, he at least had a bit of his mobility back, and with that a hand to eat on his own.

But with Jout feeling better again came also a problem: Hogan grew more and more impatient with him not sharing any details about what exactly had happened while he was held captive by Fuhrmann. Although Hogan had never believed his excuse that he did not remember his stay with the Gestapo, now it was even less believable after two weeks of constant repeating. But Jout had no other choice than making his brother angry; he had to prevent that the others learned about the family's fate that he had signed. Jout's conscience was heavily burdened with his responsibility in the death of the innocent family and he feared his friends' reaction if they ever learned about it. Therefore, Jout accepted his brother's anger as a justified punishment. Apart from this, he just wanted to forget those painful days in Fuhrmann's custody; to lock up the memories in the back of his mind and never let them out again. Jout knew that this was probably not possible since his knee and hand would always remind him, as well as the scars on his stomach, hand, and knee. Well, at least this was something he was already used to; the scars that covered his back reminded him of his father's abuse every time he looked into the mirror. Now, years later, the arising memories were not as painful anymore as they used to be. Maybe the same would happen to the memories of the torture over time. At least that is what Jout desperately hoped with all his heart.

Jout was taken out of his thoughts when the door opened. He saw how his brother stepped in an greeted, "Hey, Rob! How's the football game going?"

"The Americans are in the lead because of a goal from Baker," Hogan informed him.

The Americans were playing against the British and because Jout felt much better, he was able to convince Newkirk to participate. Jout knew how much his boyfriend loved to play sports, especially if it was about playing for his home country, and he also wanted Newkirk to think about something else for a changed. The last weeks, Newkirk had spent almost every hour by Jout's bedside, alternating between worrying and being happy.

Knowing that this was one of the few times where he could talk with his brother alone, Hogan had left the game and headed for his quarters. He grabbed the stool by his desk and put it by the bunkbed. Then he sat down and asked, "How are you doing, Josh?"

Jout rolled his eyes. "I'm fine, Rob. You don't have to ask five times a day."

"I'm only worried about you," Hogan defended himself. "After all, you almost died two times in the last month."

"I know, Rob. And I appreciate your concern," Jout said. "But say, is there something you want from me? You didn't leave the game just to ask me how I'm feeling, didn't you?" Jout had already an inkling what his brother wanted from him, and he did not like it.

"Guilty as charged." Hogan's facial expression grew more serious as he demanded, "I want to know what exactly happened in Gestapo HQ. You and I both know that you do not not remember. Therefore, I begin to wonder what made you so afraid that you don't want to talk about it with your own brother; especially since the man responsible is already dead."

Jout bid his bottom lip and lowered his gaze, staring at the sock in his left hand. For a short moment, he considered telling his brother about everything Fuhrmann did to him; but only for a moment. Then his fear that Hogan might hate him for what had happened to the family took control over his mind and he said, "I don't know what you are talking about. The last thing I remember is being escorted to Fuhrmann's car; and if you don't believe me, that is not my problem."

Hogan sighed and pinched the back of his nose. How can a person be this stubborn? He intended no evil by trying to make his brother talk; he only did his duty as a commanding officer. Besides, Hogan hated not knowing what his brother went through. Especially since he felt responsible for it by deciding that they would not try to free Jout on their own.

"Josh, I can only imagine what you've been through. And I understand that you would rather not want to talk about it, but you have! If you repress your memories, your psychological health will only get worse," Hogan explained. "You're my little brother. I only want to help you."

"You would help me by stop asking. I don't know how often I have to repeat it, but I don't remember anything that has happened in Gestapo HQ," Jout said, a hint of annoyance in his voice.

Though Fuhrmann had said to him that Jout had kept his mouth Jout, Hogan decided to try another strategy. If coaxing did not work, maybe provoking would. Hogan raised an eyebrow and asked, "Don't you want to talk about it because you told Fuhrmann something about our operation?" He saw how Jout stared at him with a shocked expression on his face and added, "You don't have to worry about consequences if you did. Fuhrmann is dead, and I won't tell anyone."

Jout felt how fury rose in him, making him take deep breaths to control his emotions. "How dare you!?" he yelled. "How dare you imply that I betrayed you all! I almost died protecting you and everyone connected to this damn operation." Jout shook his head. "I can't believe you actually think I could sell you out."

"Well, what else should I think?" Hogan tried to defend himself while trying to hide a victorious smirk. Seemed like he succeeded in getting Jout to talk to him. "There has to be a reason why you refuse to talk to me."

Jout leant forward into a sitting position and narrowed his eyes, wrath now in complete control of his body. "You know what, Rob? Think what you want to think; I don't care. If my own brother actually believes I could betray him, then it only shows how little you know me. And how little you think of me." In his rage, Jout accidently moved his right arm too rapidly, which sent a sharp pain from his broken collarbone through his whole body. He hissed in pain and touched his right shoulder with his left hand, pressing his eyes shut.

"Your collarbone, Josh! Should I get Wilson?"

Hogan stretched his hands out to help his brother, but Jout slapped them away. He took a deep breath and said, "Get away from me!"

"Josh –"

"I said, go away!" Jout yelled. He leant back against the wall as he waited for the pain to pass.

Hogan looked defeated to the ground, driving with his hand through his thick black hair. Realizing what he had done by implying that Jout might have betrayed them, he slowly backed away and left his quarters. When he stepped out into the main room, he saw how the barracks filled with the occupants who returned from the football game.

"We won, Colonel!" Carter exclaimed as soon as he spotted Hogan.

"Congratulations," Hogan said, trying to give a faint smile.

Wilson, who had entered together with the barracks' occupants, stepped forward and asked, "How is the Lieutenant, Colonel? Has he already talked about the torture?"

Hogan shook his head. "He's fine and no, he hasn't. And he probably won't talk to me anymore."

Wilson gave him a questioning look. "Why that, Colonel?" Then he narrowed his eyes and questioned, "What have you done, Sir?"

"I think I have pushed him too far," Hogan confessed. The stroked with his hand across his neck and explained, "I might have implied that the reason why he doesn't want to talk is that he maybe has said something to Fuhrmann about our operation."

"Ya did what, gov'nor?!" Newkirk asked. " 'ave ya forgotten 'at Fuhrmann 'imself told us 'at Josh kept 'is mouth shut?"

"I have not forgotten that. But I thought if I provoke him, Josh maybe starts talking in his rage."

"And let me guess, he didn't," Wilson interjected. Hogan nodded and the medic sighed. "I have told you, Colonel, if you push him into talking, he will do the exact opposite."

"I know, I know." Hogan sat down at the table and put his head in his hands. "I just don't understand why he refuses to talk. I mean, I know that the memories hurt, but that's no reason to be so stubborn."

"Colonel, I think the reason why he doesn't want to talk is that he has experienced something that is much more horrific than the physical torture itself." When Wilson received confused and puzzled looks from the other men, he illustrated, "I have read a lot about the experience of torture victims, and they mostly say that the psychological torture is much worse than the physical one. My guess is that Lieutenant Hogan has been confronted with something that rattled him emotionally, and now he tries to bury the memories about it."

"What's your advice on how we can help him?" Hogan wanted to know.

"Definitely not what you've been doing, Sir. I suggest you stop mentioning the torture at all and wait until he comes around. Usually that's the best way to handle it," Wilson informed him.

Hogan sighed and pinched the back of his nose again. Eventually he said, "Alright. I don't like it, but if you say that's the best way to do it, then we all will stop asking him." He rose to his feet and made his way to the door. "I only hope you are right, Wilson."


	31. Chapter 31

Hogan waited with his crew in the radio room for Tiger. London wanted a factory destroyed and Hogan requested Tiger's help for the job. It was not really necessary, but he wanted to see her again; besides, he thought it was time to tell his men about their engagement. While he waited, his thoughts drifted to his brother. Since their clash four days ago, Jout had stopped talking to him; for good. Whenever he was in his own quarters, Jout pretended to be asleep or read a book or simply stared at a blank spot in the room. Hogan knew that it was his own fault, but it still hurt to see his brother turning away from him. That was another reason why Hogan requested Tiger's help. Even though he had said he would stop pushing Jout into talking, he could not do nothing. He had once done that, and it almost killed his young brother. He would not do the same mistake twice. Hogan hoped that maybe as an outsider, Tiger managed to get through to Jout when she talked to him.

Hogan snapped out of his thoughts when he heard voices coming closer to the radio room. He looked up and saw how Tiger and LeBeau appeared in the small room. Tiger flashed him a small and quick smile and then she greeted, "Hello, Colonel Hogan."

They always acted like they were not involved in front of the others; especially because they had not known what it was between them before Hogan's proposal.

"Hello, Tiger. Thanks for coming," Hogan answered.

He began to explain his plan for destroying the factory, and every now and then Tiger gave suggestions to improve it. Hogan's men also gave suggestions or asked questions, and in the end, they had the perfect plan to destroy the factory. It was one of the main producers of anti-aircraft batteries and it was vital for the Allies that Hogan and his men succeeded in destroying it, because with the Allies' progress in Europe, the air raids over German cities increased and London wanted as little problems for the planes as possible.

When Tiger pointed on the map to show where her men would be positioned, LeBeau suddenly exclaimed, "Oh là là! Is that an engagement ring on your finger?"

Tiger froze, but before she could answer, Newkirk placed his right hand on his forehead and theatrically said, "Oh, no! I think me 'eart's been broken."

This made everyone except Hogan and Tiger chuckle. Tiger used this moment of abstraction to direct a questioning look at Hogan. She did not know how to answer and LeBeau's question showed her that Hogan had not yet told his men about their engagement.

Hogan responded by giving her a slight nod and when the laughter of the other men died down, he stepped closer to Tiger and wrapped an arm around her waist. "You are right, LeBeau; it is an engagement ring. I asked Marie to marry me after the war, and she said yes."

The couple was greeted with four baffled men. It amused Hogan to see how unrealistic it seemed for the others that he asked a woman to marry him. While he waited for a reaction from the men, he pulled Tiger closer to his side, enjoying the feel of her body pressed against his.

The first one to react was Baker. "Well, I guess good wishes are in order, Sir." He moved forward and shook his CO's hand and gave Tiger a hug.

"I also wish all the best for you two," LeBeau said and did the same as Baker.

Carter and Newkirk followed, and when everyone congratulated the happy couple, Carter asked, "How long are you two engaged, Sir?"

"For almost three weeks now," Tiger answered.

"Ah, so that's why Colonel Hogan left for town the day you came," Baker pointed out.

" 'ave ya told Josh, gov'nor?" Newkirk asked. He was certain Jout would love to hear the news but with the current situation between the brothers, he feared that his boyfriend might react in a way he would later regret if Hogan told him now.

Hogan nodded and stated, "I told him the day he woke up. Also asked him to be my best man, which he agreed to." He sighed. "But who knows if he still wants to."

"I'm sure 'e will come around, Sir," Newkirk assured. " 'e's just angry at ya for implyin' 'at 'e 'ad told Fuhrmann something."

"You did what?" Tiger exclaimed as she looked up at Hogan.

"It's a long story," Hogan said, trying to change the subject. He disengaged himself from Tiger and grabbed the map from the table. "I want you guys to start with the preparation. Carter, you are responsible for the fitting explosives. Baker, you will help him. Newkirk and LeBeau, I want Wehrmacht uniforms for the four of us. Make me a _Hauptmann_ ; it's your choice as what you three will pose."

The men nodded and separated, heading into Carter's lab or Newkirk's sewing room. Hogan waited for them to be out of earshot before he turned to face Tiger. He took her hands in his and sweetly asked, "Could you do me a favour?"

"Depending on the favour," Tiger answered, a grin on her face.

Hogan took a breath while stroking with his thumbs the back of her hands. "Could you talk with Josh? I don't know what to do anymore and maybe he listens to you as an outsider."

"Has he still not talked?"

"No, he hasn't." Hogan shook his head. "That's why I did what Newkirk talked about. I tried to provoke him so that he talks to me; which ended in him not talking to me at all anymore."

"I don't know, Robert," Tiger answered. "In my experience with tortured underground agents, the more you try to get them to talk, the less they will do."

"I know that; our medic has said the same thing. But I can't just stand around and watch how he is tormented by nightmares night after night, and I have no idea how to help him because I don't know what he's been through," Hogan pleaded. "Please."

Tiger thought for a moment, debating whether she should talk to Jout or not. Seeing the desperate look on her fiancé's face made her sigh and eventually she gave in to his plea. "Alright, Robert. I will do it. But I can't promise anything."

A broad smile circled around his lips and Hogan pulled her into a tight hug. "Thank you, Marie. You are my last hope." He buried his nose in her blonde hair, placing a kiss on her head. Then he stepped back and walked with her to the latter which led into the barracks, always hoping that his plan to get Jout to talk would work.

* * *

Jout was reading in his poetry book when he heard a knock on the door. This puzzled him, because the others usually never knocked unless Hogan was in his quarters too. He laid down the book and called out, "Come in!" Slowly, the door opened and instead of spotting a man in uniform, Jout caught sight of a woman in a red sweater and skirt. But not any woman; it was Tiger! This baffled him even more and he asked, "Tiger? What are you doing here?"

Tiger closed the door behind her and pointed to the stool next do his bunk. "Can I sit down?"

"Sure." While Tiger sat down, Jout questioned, "What brings you to our wonderful Stalag?"

"Your brother needs my help in destroying an anti-aircraft battery factory," Tiger explained. "But how are you feeling, Josh? I heard the last weeks were not the easiest." She quickly added, "I hope you don't mind if I call you Josh. By the way, you don't have to call me by my codename; Marie is fine."

Jout smiled at her. "I don't mind at all; and of course I call you Marie if that's what you want." He looked down at his right arm, which he held close to his body since his collarbone was still not completely healed. "You are right; I've had better weeks than the last ones, but nothing my body can't handle. The only thing important is that I am still alive."

"That's good to hear. Robert was really worried about you."

"Oh, by the way, congratulations on your engagement," Jout said. Then he chuckled. "Never thought he would have the guts to ask you."

Tiger had to smile and looked down at the ring on her finger. "I was just as much surprised as you were."

For a moment, no one said a word. Tiger thought about how to approach the unpleasant topic and Jout waited for her to say why she visited him. He knew that asking him how he felt was not the only reason why she wanted to talk with him.

Tiger raised her gaze and stared into Jout's brown eyes that reminded him of her fiancé's. "A good friend of mine with whom I worked closely in the underground went through the same you do. He was arrested by the Gestapo, but we were able to free him. Claude was barely alive when we found him, and it took a long time for his physical wounds to heal. As soon as his body allowed it, Claude took part in our activities again. He told everyone that he was fine and we believed him; a terrible mistake. Because what we had not realized was that his physical wounds may had healed, but his mentally wounds not. Three months later, I found him in his home; dead. Killed himself with a gun."

Jout watched Tiger closely while she told him about her friend, trying hard to suppress his arising anger. He could not believe that his brother was unable to leave him alone. "I'm sorry to hear that, Marie, but I am not Claude. I can't even remember what Fuhrmann did to me. Why should I kill myself over something I can't remember?" He averted his gaze and straightened his blanket. "And you can tell Rob that he doesn't have to send you to get me to talk. There is nothing to talk about and I wish he would simply leave me alone with that matter."

"He is only worried for you –"

"If he would be as concerned about what I want as he was about what he wants, he would accept my answer that I do not remember what happened in Gestapo HQ. And he would not imply that I betrayed him, you, and everyone else connected to the operation by talking to Fuhrmann." Jout snorted. "How can he have the nerve to even think that I would be capable of such a thing?"

"Because many people crack under torture," Tiger tried to soothe his future brother-in-law. "This has nothing to do with thinking one is "capable" of betraying. It's simply a normal thing to happen."

Jout did not know what to respond and went back to watching his left hand driving over the blanket that Newkirk had tailored for him. He stopped for a short second when he felt Tiger's hand on his healthy right knee, but eventually continued his movement.

"I will leave you alone in a moment," Tiger began. "I only want you to know that whatever the reason is that you think you cannot talk to anyone, it is not as bad as you think it is. All of us are worried for you and wish you would open up to us. And nothing that you tell us will make us turn our back on you." She stood up and walked across the room to the door. "If you ever feel like talking and you don't want to do it with your friends, you can always call for me."

Once more, she received no answer from the young American. She sighed and opened the door, stepping into the barracks' main room, which was completely empty except for Hogan. The black-haired man sat by the desk and rose to his feet as soon as he spotted Tiger.

"And?" he asked, his voice filled with hope. Tiger only shook her head, a sad expression on her face. Hogan's face was filled with the same look as he slowly sank down on the stool again. He drove with both of his hands through his hair and said, "I don't know what to do anymore. Josh refuses to talk to me, now completely, and every night I am woken by his screams because he has another nightmare. And it's all my fault. I really am a failure as a brother."

"Don't be so harsh on you, _mon chéri_." Tiger moved behind him and wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders. She gave him a kiss to his temple before placing her head on his left shoulder. "It is not your fault that Fuhrmann did what he did. You all know that being a spy comes with risks; besides, you are the one who convinced Burkhalter to order Josh's release. Who knows what else he might had to endure if he wasn't freed."

Hogan put his hands on top of hers and sighed. "I wish I could turn back time and prevent everything that has happened. Then Josh might be still the same."

"He still is, Robert," Tiger said as he gave him a gentle squeeze. "Deep down inside, he still is the person he was before. You just have to give him time to find this person again. Be supportive in any way he lets you…and stop pushing him into talking. Promise me that."

He closed his eyes and nodded. "Thank you for being here, Marie. And for listening to me. As the Senior POW of this camp and the commander of a sabotage group, I usually have to be strong for everyone else."

"You don't have to be strong around me, _mon chéri_." Tiger kissed his temple one more time. "Be sure to know that you can let your walls come down when I am near you. I will always be there so that you have a shoulder to lean on. Always."


	32. Chapter 32

Jout awoke with a start. He panted and blinked with his eyes, looking around the room to determine where he was. When he realized he was still in his brother's quarters, he fell back on the thin mattress of the bunk bed and closed his eyes, taking deep breaths to calm himself down. Yet again he was woken up by another nightmare. It was always the same; he decided to protect his brother instead of the family, but before Fuhrmann gave the deadly command, Ann and Tommy replaced the family and he had to watch how they were shot. Jout opened his eyes again and sighed. To his dismay, the number of nightmares had increased instead of decreasing. He had really hoped that it would get better with time, but it seemed like it was only getting worse. Maybe his brother and Tiger – Marie – were right and he should open up to them. Surely they would not hate him for what happened with this family, would they? Jout shook his head. No, his brother always made it a target to keep innocent civilians safe; no matter what was at stake. He would be disappointed in him, maybe even hate him and ban him from the operation. That was something Jout had to prevent. He simply had to find a way to get his nightmares under control, and then everything would return to normal.

Jout raised his left arm and stared at his hand, which was not wrapped up in a bandage anymore. It had been five weeks since he was brought back to camp after his stay with Fuhrmann and he was slowly getting back on track. The coloured bruises and burn wounds on his face and chest have long since vanished, his ribs and collarbone were almost completely healed, and he could even move the fingers on his left hand a bit. Except for the one attack right after being brought back, Jout's nervous system had worked without another incident and the pain in his knee had also eased. He still was not allowed to walk, but according to Wilson, it did not take long anymore before he could take his first steps. Last week, the medic had removed the stitches on Jout's hand and stomach, with that revealing two additional scars on his body. Other people might hate scars, but Jout not. It is right that they remind one of sometimes painful memories one would rather forget; Jout thought the same. But for him, every scar on his body was a lightning sign for how strong he was; for what he had survived. And the new scars on his hand and stomach showed him that even the Gestapo could not kill him.

A creaking sound made Jout lower his hand and direct his gaze at the door. He watched how it was carefully opened and then Newkirk's face appeared as the other man peaked in the room. When he saw that Jout's eyes were open, Newkirk opened the door fully and said, " 'e's awake, Wilson."

Newkirk and the medic stepped into the room and they made his way over to the bunk.

"Good afternoon, Lieutenant Hogan," Wilson greeted. "Just want to quickly check your knee. How are you feeling?"

"Good afternoon to you too, Sergeant Wilson," Jout announced. "All in all, I'm feeling fine. Just a bit tired."

By now, Newkirk had settled down on the edge of Jout's bunk. He helped his boyfriend to sit up and questioned, "Were you woken by another nightmare?"

Jout shrugged. "I think so; can't remember what the dream was about though."

Wilson, who currently rolled up Jout's pyjama leg, asked, "Has your memory returned yet?"

"I'm afraid not." Jout shook his head. "Do you think I will never remember what Fuhrmann did to me?"

While Wilson removed the bandage around the lieutenant's knee, he answered, "That's something I can't answer, Lieutenant. It could be that your memory never returns, but it could also return years later. The medicine doesn't have an answer yet."

Jout turned to face his boyfriend and asked, "And how are you feeling, Peter? The last time I saw you last night, you were really wasted."

Newkirk drove with his hand over his face. "Leave off. My head feels like someone is constantly playing the drums on it."

"What have you guys been doing yesterday?" Wilson wanted to know as he touched Jout's knee to feel for any irregularities.

"We celebrated Peter's birthday," Jout answered. Then he smirked and announced, "Now he is sweet twenty-seven years young. But it seems like it's already going downward if you look at how little he had to drink to be out like a light."

" 'ey, just wait till ya are in me age and then we talk about things goin' downward," Newkirk answered with mocking sarcasm.

"You have no right to complain," Wilson interjected. "With thirty-three, I'm the oldest out of the three of us. I am surrounded by spring chicken!"

While Jout laughed, Newkirk shot Wilson a glare; he did not like to be called a "spring chicken". For him, this term meant being young and inexperienced without any idea about life. But he was anything but inexperienced; he had learned all about life the hard way. So he did not like this term at all.

Jout noticed Newkirk's glare and took his boyfriend's hand in his. "Don't take it personal; it was only a joke." To change the subject, Jout looked at Wilson and asked, "How does my knee look?"

"I'm satisfied with the healing process," Wilson declared. "I can't feel any malposition of the knee cab or any other complication that could have arisen considering how smashed your knee was." When Wilson finished wrapping up his knee again, making sure the bandage was not as tight as before to give Jout room for movement, he asked, "Lieutenant, could you please try to move your leg a bit?"

Jout tried to bend his leg; he managed only a few inches before he had stop. "That's all I can do, Wilson. It already hurts a lot."

"It's a start, Lieutenant. Just like with your hand, try to move it every day. After some time, you will begin to make progress."

Suddenly, there was noise coming from the main room and a few seconds later, the door was pushed open. In rushed Hochstetter, followed by Burkhalter, Klink, and Hogan. The Gestapo major had a glowing red face; just like every time when he was visiting Stalag 13. Contrary to him, Burkhalter's face clearly showed his annoyance and Klink simply looked afraid. Hogan's face was unreadable, but it seemed like he was just as annoyed by whatever Hochstetter wanted from them like Burkhalter.

While the four man had entered the small room, Wilson had risen to his feet and asked, "May I ask what is going on here? I'm in the middle of an examination."

Hochstetter pointed at Jout and barked, "What is this prisoner still doing here?" Then he turned to Klink. "I ordered you to return him to Gestapo Headquarters. Now I have to see that he is lying cosily in his bunk. This will have consequences, Klink!"

"Now wait," Hogan interjected before Klink had a chance to defend himself. "Why should my brother be brought to Gestapo Headquarters again. If you weren't informed by your colleagues, Major Hochstetter, Lieutenant Hogan is currently recovering from his latest stay there."

"Bah! Of course you don't want that I interrogate your brother again. Not when Major Fuhrmann was this close to retrieving prove that you are Papa Bear!" Hochstetter gestured with his fingers how close Fuhrmann was in front of Hogan's face. "You can call yourself lucky that you have not been put in front of a firing squad already, Hogan. Only because you persuaded General Burkhalter into releasing your brother."

"Major Hochstetter, Colonel Hogan hasn't persuaded me into anything," Burkhalter declared. "May I remind you that Major Fuhrmann broke the protocol by interrogating a prisoner of war without a Luftwaffe-Officer present? And having seen in what a devastating state Lieutenant Hogan was after being brought back from the interrogation, Major Fuhrmann clearly violated the Geneva Convention. And it's my responsibility to see that those violations do not happen or stop if occur."

Jout fearfully watched how the four men discussed his transfer to Gestapo Headquarters. Hochstetter was constantly screaming, demanding his immediate return there while Hogan equally sternly demanded his stay. Burkhalter tried to reason with Hochstetter and Klink just kept silent, too afraid of both the Gestapo major and the Luftwaffe general. Jout felt how his heart started to race and how a knot formed in his stomach. There was a whirring sound in his ears and sweat forming on his forehead. At that moment, he wished nothing more than to curl up in Newkirk's arms and feel his boyfriend's strength around his body, but he knew that was impossible. Newkirk and he would immediately be shot or worse by the German authorities who despised homosexuals. Still, he felt how terrifying fear filled his body as memories of Fuhrmann torturing him washed through his mind. Then something broke in him and he was not longer in control of his body.

"Please, no!" Jout screamed while burying his head in Newkirk's shoulder, desperately clutching his boyfriend's sweater with his left hand, with that directing everyone's attention at him. "Please, I don't know anything!"

A baffled Newkirk laid his left arm around Jout's shoulders but did nothing more; to the Germans it seemed like he was simply a man caught up in the fear of his friend.

"What's happening with him?" Hogan asked Wilson, who tried his best to keep Jout's leg still. Though it was almost completely healed, he feared that the sudden movement could destroy the progress.

Another scream of Jout prevented an immediate answer from Wilson. "Don't let him bring me away! I really don't know anything. Please, no!" He clutched Newkirk's sweater tighter, fearing that if he let go, he would find himself in the Gestapo cell again.

Wilson looked at Hogan and said, "He is suffering from a panic attack. The prospect of another interrogation by the Gestapo must have triggered his memories to return."

Hogan shot Hochstetter a glare and announced, "See what colleague has caused? I want you to leave my quarters. Now!"

"Are you ordering me around?" Hochstetter asked in disbelief, his face even redder than before. "Don't you forget that you are the prisoner, Hogan!"

"Maybe he can't order you to leave, but I can," Burkhalter interrupted Hochstetter's rant. "And that's what I am doing now. I hereby order you to leave Stalag 13. And if you try to interrogate Lieutenant Hogan in Gestapo Headquarters without a Luftwaffe-Officer present one more time, I will personally call my good friend Himmler and make sure that you will find yourself on the next train to the Eastern Front."

Hochstetter first stared at Burkhalter, then at Hogan. A growl left his lips before he stormed out of the room; a loud slam of the door confirmed that the Gestapo major had left the barracks.

"Please, not another interrogation!" Jout begged, making everyone turn their attention back at him. He had his head buried further in Newkirk's shoulder, and Newkirk had a hard time fighting his urge to wrap his arms around his boyfriend and soothe him with kisses.

"General Burkhalter, with all due respect, I think it would be best if you and Colonel Klink leave this room," Wilson said. "Although you are not a threat, I think the mere fact that you are German will prevent Lieutenant Hogan's panic attack to stop."

Burkhalter nodded. "I understand, Sergeant."

He and Klink quickly left Hogan's quarters, with that giving Newkirk the room to finally wrap his arms around Jout and tenderly stroke through his umber brown hair. "They are gone, luv. No one will 'arm ya, don't worry." Jout continued to clutch Newkirk's sweater even when the Brit began to gently rock him.

By now, Wilson had filled a syringe with a lucid liquid. Upon Hogan's questioning glance, the medic explained, "I will give him a sedative. He is too shaken to calm down on his own."

Wilson walked over to the head of the bunk and tried to break Jout's grip on Newkirk's sweater to give him the shot. But the American's fright made him incredible strong, and the medic was not able to remove his hand. Therefore, he removed Newkirk's hand from Jout's shoulder and handed the Brit the syringe with the order, "Hold!" Then he awkwardly rolled up Jout's sleeve while his hand still clutched the light blue sweater. When Wilson eventually succeeded in rolling up the sleeve up to his elbow, he took the syringe from Newkirk and gave Jout the sedative shot. Within seconds, Jout's eyes closed and he stopped struggling while still being in his boyfriend's strong arms. Newkirk carefully laid him down onto the bunk and went back to brushing through Jout's hair.

As Wilson put the syringe back in a box, he explained to Hogan, "He should wake up in the evening. When he does, do not press him into talking. Just act as if nothing has happened; ask him if he is hungry or something similar. A panic attack is something extremely disturbing; it's utterly important that he starts talking about on his own. Otherwise, he could suffer from another panic attack."

"You think his memory might have returned?" Hogan asked. Though he did not belief his brother's excuse that he could not remember anything, he had decided to go with the excuse since his clash with Jout about two weeks ago. After five days of Jout refusing to talk to him and multiple apologies from his side, the two brothers talked again with each other. And Hogan had no interest in repeating those five days.

"It could be," Wilson answered. "But it could also be that simply the threat itself triggered the panic attack. I mean, even if he does not remember what exactly Fuhrmann did to him, Lieutenant Hogan is aware of the amount of his wounds and their almost deadly consequences."

Hogan watched how the medic packed up his things and left the small room. He sighed as he sat down on the stool by his desk, his arms crossed in front of his chest. "I hope Josh talks with us soon. I can't stand the uncertainty any longer."

"I feel ya, gov'nor," Newkirk answered while he stroked Jout's cheek. "I'm still amazed at what Burkhalter said to 'ochstetter. Seems like 'e doesn't like the methods of the Gestapo either."

"Well, maybe he has found some of his conscience in the depth of his being again," Hogan stated.

"Do ya think Josh will ever be the same again?" Newkirk asked.

Hogan sighed. "I hope so; but I really don't know, Peter. You?"

Newkirk gazed at Jout and gulped, trying to supress tears he felt were welling up inside him. Eventually, he slowly shook his head. "I doubt it, gov'nor."

"Why is that?" Hogan wanted to know.

"Before he was tortured by Fuhrmann, his eyes always held a special sparkle. It gave his eyes a glow full of happiness; and almost always, that glow carried over to his whole being. His eyes made him look alive. But ever since he woke up, this sparkle is gone." Newkirk had to stop for a moment, his emotions caught up in throat. "It vanished…just like the sense of happiness and life that he radiated around those who surrounded him."

Hogan did not know what to answer. He had never recognized this special glow in his brother's eyes. Of course he noticed how Jout was always full of life, but that was just how he was. But then again, he was only Jout's brother; he did not pay close attention to his eyes. Hogan threw a last glance at his brother before he rose to his feet again and wordlessly left his quarters, needing some time and space for himself.

Newkirk stayed with his boyfriend, thinking that he might be feeling his presence in his subconscious mind and he wanted Jout to feel protected. He watched how the American breathed evenly, and his mind drifted back to the time when he had spent all his day next to an unconscious Jout, not knowing if he would wake up or not. And now he was sitting next to an unconscious Jout again; however, this time he was not worrying about whether he would die, but whether Jout would ever find mental peace again. And somehow, this was much worse.


	33. Chapter 33

_Five days later…_

He stopped on a deserted road in the middle of the woods, about twenty minutes away from his target. His hands were tightly gripping the steering wheel; in fact, his grip was so tightly that his knuckles turned white. A million thoughts raced through his mind, and he was debating with himself whether he should do what he wanted to do. It involved an incredible high risk if anyone got suspicious about his actions, but he could no longer sit at home and act as if nothing had happened. He had to see for himself that the other man was fine; before he did not check for himself, he could not go through with his other plan. He glanced at the bracelet lying on the passenger seat. Yes, today was the day he would show his gratitude to the one person who did not care about his uniform, but only cared about him as a person; who cared about his well-being. Making the decision to go through with his plan, he started the engine and slowly drove through the snowy forest street.

* * *

"Why do we have to do another work detail?" LeBeau complained. "We did one only last week."

"Yeah, LeBeau's right," Newkirk agreed, a cigarette between his lips. "It's freezin' outside, and the snow fall is gettin' 'eavier."

"I say we let the Germans shovel their own streets free," LeBeau said and the other prisoners immediately showed their consent.

"Alright, pipe it down!" Hogan declared. He sipped at his mug and said, "Do I need to remind you that we need the street to Hammelburg clean for our sabotage act tonight? And the best way to assure that the street is clean is to do it ourselves."

"But, Colonel, Newkirk's right with the snow fall. By tonight, the street will be covered in snow again," Baker pointed out.

Hogan put down the mug. "We also made arrangements that a member of the underground comes to the street so that I can meet him or her to go over today's mission. So no arguing, we are doing the work detail."

Under the groans and complains of the prisoners, who shuffled to their bunks to get dressed in the few winter clothes they still possessed, Hogan walked into his office to get his own scarf and gloves. When he entered his room, he saw his brother reading a book, covered by his blanket and dressed in his jacket above his pyjama. Hogan had followed Wilson's advice and ignored Jout's panic attack, hoping he would start talking on his own about it. But so far, Jout had made to attempt to tell him what exactly the panic attack was about. Hogan just could not understand why Jout was so stubborn and rather let himself be tormented by nightmares or panic attacks than talking to him. Maybe his brother did not trust him as much as he thought, arising from him leaving him alone with their father? Or maybe he feared something – someone – else? But Fuhrmann was dead; who else should he fear?

Ignoring those thoughts, Hogan went over to his closet. "The guys and I are off to Klink's work detail. I think we'll be back in two to three hours. Do you need anything?"

Jout looked up from his book and replied, "No, I'm good." He was about to go back to reading when he stopped and said, "Although, maybe you could get me a new cup of tea before you leave?"

"Sure." Hogan left his quarters and returned seconds later, a steaming cup of tea in his hand. He set it down on the nightstand and said, "Here you go."

"Thank you, Rob."

"How are you feeling, Josh? Any problems with your knee?" Hogan inquired.

Jout shook his head. "If I rest it, it doesn't even hurt anymore. And even though it's not much, I can bend my knee each day a bit more. Maybe Wilson allows me to walk soon."

Hogan smiled at his brother. "That sounds good; I'm glad you're feeling better." He looked at his watch and announced, "I have to go now. I'm back as soon as possible."

Jout had to roll his eyes. "I survive a few hours alone. I'm not three anymore."

Hogan was halfway across the room when he turned around and teased, "Are you sure about that? I'm sure I could organise a teddy bear for you."

"Idiot," Jout mumbled while Hogan laughed out loud, closing the door behind him, with that leaving his brother all alone for the first time since he was brought back to camp.

* * *

 _Twenty Minutes later…_

Klink was going through some paperwork for Burkhalter when a knock on his door turned his attention away from the pile of paper on his desk.

He looked up and saw how Hilda entered his office. " _Kommandant_ , a _Leutnant_ Becker from the Gestapo wishes to speak to you."

At the mention of the Gestapo, Klink's hair immediately stood on end and his blood ran cold. He had always hated this organisation, but with what happened lately, he could not stand it anymore. But as always, he feared the Gestapo more than he hated it, and therefore he quickly said, "Let him in, let him in."

Hilda nodded and waved for the person in the other room to come. Klink was at his feet in a split-second as soon as he caught sight of the black uniform. The other man, who had blond hair and looked extremely young, raised his right arm and greeted, " _Heil Hitler_!"

Klink replied with the same greeting and then pointed at the chair in front of his desk. "Here, sit down _Leutnant_ Becker." When the other man complied, Klink also sank in his chair and nervously asked, "What can I do for the honourable Gestapo? Do you want a drink? Schnapps perhaps?" Even though Klink was very well aware that he could be the other man's father, and that he was five ranks above him, the mere fact that the young man across from him was a member of the Secret State Police made Klink act as if he was a general or field marshal.

"No, thank you, Colonel," Becker answered. Klink was surprised about the nice tone of the other man's voice, only used to yelling and barking from the Gestapo.

"Alright, _Leutnant_ Becker. May I inquire what brings you to my Stalag?"

Becker waited for a moment before he answered. "I had hoped you would allow me to speak to one of your prisoners, Sir. Lieutenant Joshua Patrick Hogan from the United States Army Air Force."

"Why is everyone of the Gestapo so interested in Lieutenant Hogan?" Klink asked. Then he added, "Well, General Burkhalter ordered me to let no one interrogate my prisoners without a Luftwaffe-Officer present."

"Oh, I don't want to interrogate him, Sir," Becker said. "I only want to talk him. But if you won't allow it, Sir…"

Becker made the move to stand up from the chair when Klink rose to his feet and exclaimed, "Wait, _Leutnant_ Becker. I would never not allow the Gestapo to do what they want to do. But Lieutenant Hogan is recovering from a four-day-stay at your Headquarters. Not that I want to say that he was treated badly while being with you, but, well –"

"I won't hurt him, Colonel Klink. You have my word." Becker stood up too and explained, "I met the prisoner at Gestapo Headquarters and I just want to conversate with him about something I noticed there."

"I never thought you would hurt him, _Leutnant Becker_." Klink pointed to the door and said, "One of my guards will show you to his barracks."

"Thank you, Colonel." Becker saluted Klink and swiftly left Klink's office.

When he stepped out of the building, he was hit in the face by the freezing cold. Snowflakes quickly covered his uniformed shoulders, and Becker looked around for a guard. He saw one walking right in front of him, who headed towards the direction of the front gate. "Excuse me," he called out, making the other man stop dead in his tracks.

He gave the Gestapo soldier a brisk salute and asked, "Yes, _Leutnant_?"

Becker stepped down the stairs and asked, "Could you bring me to Lieutenant Hogan's barracks? I have the permission of _Oberst_ Klink to talk to the prisoner."

The guard eyes him suspiciously for a second, having heard what had happened to this prisoner about a month when he was brought away by the Gestapo. But since the officer was a member of this certain organisation, and with that too dangerous to argue with, he nodded and said, "Follow me."

The two man crossed the compound, the ground being covered in a thick layer of crystal white snow which made a crushing sound when the boots of the man stepped through it. The guard led Becker to the barracks right across from the Kommandant's office building, stopping right in front of the door.

"That's the barracks of Lieutenant Hogan; all prisoners except him are currently on a work detail outside camp," informed him the guard.

Becker nodded and said, "Thank you, Private…"

"Müller," answered the Luftwaffe soldier.

"Thank you, Private Müller."

Becker turned around and opened the door, slowly closing it behind him and looking around the main room. It was completely empty and contained seven bunk beds, three lockers, a sink, a table in the middle of the room, and a stove next to it. Becker's eyes caught sight of a door at the far end of the barracks and figured that the person he was searching must lay in the room behind the door. With brisk steps, he walked through the main room and knocked on the door. Without waiting for an answer, he stepped into the room.

When his eyes landed on the person he was looking for, his lips circled into a smile and he greeted, "Hello, Joshua. I'm glad to see you alive."

* * *

After two hours of shovelling snow in freezing cold and heavy snowfall, the prisoners were brought back into camp; the only goal of everyone was to go back to their barracks as fast as possible and to warm up near the stove.

Completely frozen through, Newkirk jumped down from the truck and blew in his hands. "Blimey, I 'ate winter."

LeBeau, who followed his British friend down from the truck, wrapped his red woolen scarf tighter around his neck and said, "I have nothing against the cold or heavy snowfall, but not if I have to shovel streets clear for the filthy Bosche!"

"You can stop complain now, gentlemen," Hogan said as soon as he put his foot on solid ground. "The work detail is over and I have successfully met our contact. Let's go inside and warm up."

Hogan and his men halfway across the compound when they heard someone yelling, "Colonel Hogan!" The group turned around and caught sight of Private Müller, who quickly walked over to them.

"What's the trouble, Private Müller?" Hogan asked when the guard stood right in front of him.

"I just wanted to inform you that shortly after you left for the work detail, a Gestapo lieutenant came into camp. He went inside Colonel Klink's office and a few minutes later, he left the building and asked me to show him to the barracks of Lieutenant Hogan."

Hogan felt how his blood ran cold; same was with his men. But he kept his cool and simply narrowed his eyes. "Has he said what he wanted from my brother?"

Müller shook his head. "He only said that he wanted to talk to him." He lowered his glance and said, "Colonel Hogan, I know what happened to your brother, and I'm sorry for that. But I could not refuse his request; he is Gestapo, and a lieutenant!"

"You did everything right, Private Müller," Hogan assured. "You only followed orders. But thank you for informing me."

Müller raised his glance again and gave Hogan a small smile. Without saying anything further, he turned around and swiftly left for his guard duty. Hogan looked at his men before hurrying to the barracks. He opened the door and looked around, but spotted no one. Then he heard voices coming from his quarters and with five brisk steps, he reached the door and opened it. When he stepped into his room, he saw his brother still lying in his bunk, seemingly unharmed. Next to him on a small stool sat a young blond man in a black Gestapo uniform, who immediately rose to his feet when he spotted Hogan.

"May I ask what is going on here?" Hogan questioned. "Don't you know that you are not allowed to interrogate Luftwaffe-POWs without a Luftwaffe-Officer present?"

"I know that, Sir. But I'm not interrogating Lieutenant Hogan, I'm only talking to him," informed him the other man.

"Rob, everything is fine," informed him Jout.

Hogan and Newkirk walked over to his bunk and positioned themselves between him and the Gestapo soldier.

Newkirk gazed down at Jout and said bitterly, "The last time ya were alone with a Gestapo soldier, ya almost died."

"But Emil is different," Jout said.

Hogan raised an eyebrow. "Emil? You know him?"

He turned his head to face the Gestapo soldier, who stretched his hand out and greeted, " _Leutnant_ Emil Becker, Sir. And yes, we know each other. I have met Lieutenant Hogan while he was held captive in Gestapo Headquarters."

Albeit suspicious of the friendliness of the Gestapo officer, Hogan stretched his hand out too and shook the other man's hand. He let go of it and asked in a low tone, "So if you have met my brother in Gestapo Headquarters, does this mean you were part of Fuhrmann's squad that tortured him?"

"Oh, god, no!" exclaimed Emil. "Alright, I was part of Major Fuhrmann's squad but –"

"But he was not like the others," Jout interrupted. "He was the only one who tried to help me."

Hogan looked back at his brother. "Josh, you said you have lost your memory. Maybe he is just telling you stories to avoid justice."

Jout gazed down at his blanket and bid his lower lip. He wanted to convince his brother that Emil was a good person, but by doing so, he would need to admit that he had not lost him memory.

Emil interrupted his thoughts by saying, "Colonel Hogan, you have to believe me, I did not harm Joshua. I tried to help him by treating his wounds. I would never take part in torturing another person. I even…" Emil stopped himself before spilling the beans about his actions. Though Fuhrmann had disappeared, if the wrong people found out about what he had done, he would find himself in the next train to the Eastern or Western front.

"You did what?" Hogan inquired. He eyed the young man in front of him, who stared down to the ground and nervously shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Suddenly, light dawned on Hogan. "You were the one who wrote the anonymous note to General Burkhalter, informing him about Josh's questioning, weren't you?"

Emil raised his glance and looked into the older man's eyes; eventually, he slowly nodded. "I didn't know what else to do! Fuhrmann just brought Joshua away for giving him electric shocks, and the wound in his stomach continued to bleed heavily. I hoped by informing General Burkhalter, he might take action and free Joshua from Fuhrmann."

"You see, Rob, Emil is different. Without him, I would not be lying in this bunk right now," Jout said.

"Alright, _Leutnant_ , seems like you tried to help my brother. But I still want to know what you are doing here in my quarters. You are taking a high risk by being here," Hogan questioned.

Emil looked to the ground again, unsure of what to do. He suspected that the man in front of him was Papa Bear and therefore, it may be safe to tell him what he had in mind, but still, technically, he was the enemy. And after all, Emil had to think about his wife and infant daughter.

Jout noticed Emil's uncertainty concerning whether or not he could trust Hogan. With a soft voice he said, "You can trust him, Emil. Rob won't tell the Germans about it. Trust me."

Emil raised his glance and stared at Jout. Trust. It was extremely hard to trust someone in the Germany of today, that he stopped doing it a long time ago. But he had once trusted the American in telling him about his aversion for the Nazis and his plans about fleeing to Switzerland; and the other man had not abused his trust. So Emil looked back at Hogan and said, "I wanted to see for myself that Joshua is alright again. Before I had not seen him, I could not have went through with my plan to flee with my family to Switzerland tonight."

"You want to flee?" Hogan asked.

"That's right, Sir. I have a three-month old daughter, and I don't want her to live any longer in a country full of racism and injustice. I know that it looks like the Allies will win the war soon, but I can't take any risks," Emil explained.

Hogan stared at him for a time, then he nodded slowly. Facing the man who was the reason that his brother was still alive gave Hogan an idea. "Follow me," he said and walked out of his quarters.

Totally confused by the colonel's order, Emil hesitated for a moment. But the stern expression on the British corporal's face, who still stood in between him and Jout and with that protecting the man in the bunk showed him that he should follow Hogan. Therefore, he left the room and closed the door behind him.

The other prisoners in the barracks looked at the unfamiliar man for a moment, wondering why a Gestapo soldier was in their barracks. When they saw how Hogan calmly talked to the other man, not a hint of anger or hatred to be spotted in his expression, they were all the more surprised. But they had long since learned that their commanding officer always knew what he was doing; and to never question even the strangest behaviour of him. So the prisoners all went back to what they were doing, ignoring the conversation of the other two men.

" _Leutnant_ Becker, I find it very hard to believe that a Gestapo soldier would risk visiting an enemy soldier just to talk to him. And I also find it strange that you apparently did everything in your power to help and protect my brother from your CO Major Fuhrmann. All I needed to do was making Klink inform Burkhalter of your little visit here and you would find yourself on the Eastern Front," Hogan spoke in a low voice while watching how the young man was getting more nervous each second. "But it seems like my brother believes in you. And what he has said in the last few minutes was more than I heard from him the entire last month concerning his time in Gestapo Headquarters. If you want me to fully believe that you had nothing to do with his torture, I want you to do me a favour, or else I will inform Burkhalter."

"I will do whatever you want me to do, Colonel Hogan," Emil quickly answered. "Even though you might not believe it, but I'm a good man."

Hogan crossed his arms in front of his chest and said, "My brother refuses to talk about the torture. Get him to talk about it with me and I will help you flee with your family."

Emil's eyes lit up as he stared at the other man, disbelief written all over his face. "You could help me escape with my family to Switzerland?" he whispered.

"Not Switzerland, but I heard England should be beautiful this time before Christmas."

A wave of disappointed flashed across Emil's features. "Colonel Hogan, please don't get me wrong; I really want to escape with my family, and I have never participated in any atrocities from the Gestapo or anyone else, but officially, I'm a member of the German Reich. Wouldn't I be arrested as soon as I stepped on English ground?"

"Not if you promise to tell the Allied High Command everything you know about the Gestapo; for example, names of members who actively took part in interrogations and tortures." Hogan placed a hand on Emil's shoulder and said, "You have saved my brother's life. I will personally make sure that nothing will happen to you or your family. But you have to help me in getting Josh to talk."

Emil thought for a moment; eventually, he took a deep breath and nodded. "I will help you, Colonel Hogan; that's the least I can do."


	34. Chapter 34

Hogan and Emil re-entered the small room, spotting how Newkirk sat on the small soon previously occupied by Emil and how Baker, LeBeau, and Carter had not moved away from their position by the foot of the bunkbed.

"Everyone out!" Hogan ordered, with that surprising his command crew.

The three men by the bunkbed were the first ones to follow their CO's order. They shuffled out of the adjoined room while wondering what Hogan had in mind. Only Newkirk refused to obey; stubbornly, he stayed seated.

"The same goes for you, Corporal Newkirk," Hogan said, emphasising Newkirk's rank, with that indicating that he meant business.

A silent staring match erupted between the two men, which was eventually won by Hogan. Newkirk sighed as he rose to his feet, giving his boyfriend a last glance before he slowly walked across the room.

Hogan followed him wordlessly, and as soon as he had shut the door behind him, Newkirk raged, "What was 'at, gov'nor? Why do ya leave this bleedin' Gestapo soldier alone with Josh?"

Hogan went to the stove and poured himself a cup of warm ersatz coffee. "First, _Leutnant_ Becker seems to be the reason why Josh is still alive, so you should stop nourishing hatred against him." He took a sip from his mug before he continued. "And second, I ask him to try to get Josh to talk in return for getting him and his family to England."

"What?" Newkirk exclaimed. " 'ow can ya promise 'im to get 'im to England? 'e might 'ave 'elped Josh, but 'e is still Gestapo!"

"Peter, he has assured me that he has not committed any atrocities. And I believe him; why else would he have risked helping Jout, or coming here, or telling us about his plan to flee to Switzerland?" Hogan sat down at the head of the table and said, "By the way, have you noticed that Josh started to talk to us a bit when he tried to convince us that _Leutnant_ Becker is a good person? This shows me that I'm right with my opinion about him; if Josh thinks that he is a decent person, then I will think that too."

* * *

Without saying a word, Emil walked over to Jout and sat down on the stool by his bedside again.

"What did Rob want from you?" Jout asked curious.

"He told me that you have refused to talk about what you have experienced while being held captive by Major Fuhrmann. Is that true?"

Jout bid his bottom lip once more and looked away.

"I take that as a yes then," Emil announced. "Why are you not talking about the torture with your brother, Joshua? Is it in fear of the painful memories?"

Once more, Jout stayed silent, avoiding Emil's gaze.

"Your memories will only get more painful with each passing day you do not talk about them. And they will torment you even more each day. Your brother is worried about you, Joshua. And not knowing what Major Fuhrmann has done to you is like a torture for him," Emil explained.

"It's not about the torture," Jout mumbled eventually, his voice barely above a whisper.

"What is it then?" Emil inquired. When Jout did not answer once again, Emil pressed, "Do you fear that your brother and friends will treat you differently when they know what you have endured? Trust me, they will treat you differently if they do not know what happened."

Emil wanted to get Jout to talk, but not because he wanted Hogan to get him to England. No, he felt like he owed it to the equally young man lying in the bunk in front of him. And he also wanted to do it to ease his conscience. Although he had not once harmed another person while being part of the Gestapo, he felt guilty enough for just wearing this damned uniform.

Jout raised his glance and looked into Emil's blue eyes. "You don't understand, Emil. I can't talk. I just…can't."

"Then make me understand, Joshua! Tell me what you fear so much." When he received yet again no answer, Emil said, "I won't flee with my family until you tell me what prevents you to talk."

"But you have to flee!" Jout exclaimed. "Especially now when your superiors learn about you visiting me."

"Then tell me why you think you can't talk with your brother," Emil declared.

Jout bid his bottom lip as he thought about what to do. He was already responsible for a family's death; did he want to become responsible for the possible death of a second one?

He took a deep breath before he asked, "Promise me to never tell anyone what I'm about to tell you."

Emil nodded. "I promise you, nothing you tell me will leave this room."

"After I gave you the bracelet, Fuhrmann brought me out of the building. He led me into the backyard and in front of a wall with a firing squad. But the soldiers were not alone." Jout had to stop for a short moment, his emotions being caught up in his throat. "There was…there was a family standing by the wall. Father, mother, and two young children. Fuhrmann made me choose: either I would save the family and tell him who Papa Bear is, or I protect him and let the family die. I decided to save Papa Bear. I had to watch how Fuhrmann gave the command to kill this innocent family. I'm responsible for their death; that's what I can't tell my brother."

"But Joshua, you could not have prevented their faith!" Emil said. "Major Fuhrmann is the one who is responsible, not you."

"I could have saved them, Emil!" Jout yelled. "But I didn't. That makes me responsible."

Emil shook his head, his heart full of hurt that the other man held himself responsible for the twisted actions of his former commanding officer. "Do you really think Major Fuhrmann would have let them go if you had decided to tell him who Papa Bear is? Do you really think he would have taken the chance that they tell someone what he had done?"

"But –"

"No buts," he interjected. "Major Fuhrmann would have killed this family no matter what you had done. Your decision to protect Papa Bear saved countless lives. And your brother will think the same."

Jout looked at him and asked, "Do you really think so?"

"I do." Emil placed his hand on Jout's right knee and asked, "Are you ready to tell him what you have endured?"

Jout closed his eyes and took another deep breath. Then he slowly nodded and said, "Ready as I'll ever be…I think."

Emil could not prevent a small smile appearing on his face as he rose to his feet and walked across the room, opening the door. The men in the other room all stood up and looked expectantly at him. "Colonel Hogan, he is ready to talk."

Relief washed over Hogan's face. Finally, he would come to know what his little brother went through when he was held captive by the Gestapo. He and his team went into his quarters, but before he settled down to hear what Jout had to say, he turned to the German soldier and said, "I think it's best if you leave now. Do you know about the old barn in the woods?" When Emil nodded, he continued, "Come there with your family tonight at 2300 hours. From there you will learn everything else, alright?"

"Thank you, Colonel Hogan." Emil shook the American's hand and said goodbye to the other men, then he left the small room.

Hogan grabbed the stool by his desk and put it next to the bunkbed; Baker, Carter, and LeBeau quickly left the room to get the stools from the common room. Newkirk sat right by his head and took his boyfriend's hand in his to give him support for the next minutes.

When everyone had settled down, Hogan softly said, "Take as much time as you need, Josh; we won't rush you."

Jout nodded slowly, thinking about the best way to start this conversation; he decided it was best to simply start from the beginning. At first he hesitated a bit, always trying to find the best way of explaining what happened, but that quickly stopped; then the words just poured out of him. He told his brother and friends about the beating, the ice-cold water, the hanging from the hook. He told them about Fuhrmann's constant demanding to tell him that Hogan was Papa Bear, and how he shot and stabbed him. About the burning smell that stung in his nose when he was given electric shocks, and how Emil did everything in his power to keep him alive. He told the others everything that Emil had told him, for example why he was part of the Gestapo; only leaving out how he told Emil a way to escape. That was not necessary for them to know. And then Jout arrived at the most dreaded part of all. He made a small pause, trying to fight against the panic that was rising in him. After taking another deep breath, one of many he had taken the past half hour, he told his brother and friends about Fuhrmann brining him to the execution side and about the family standing in front of a firing squad. About how Fuhrmann made him choose between saving his brother or saving the family; and how he decided to let the family die. At last, he told them about staring into twelve rifles and giving up on his life; only to be saved seconds before his death by Fuhrmann's aide informing him that Burkhalter had ordered the major to return him to camp.

All the while, his friends listened silently. With each new piece of information they got about the torture Jout had to endure, they grew more and more angry at Fuhrmann while also feeling a deep sense of hurt in their hearts for their brother, boyfriend, and friend. Newkirk gripped Jout's hand tight; in the beginning to give his boyfriend support, but in the end, it was more of a support for him. His heart was aching for him, yet at the same time, he felt relieved upon finally knowing what Jout went through. The same relief filled Hogan's body; even though the guilt he felt for being partly responsible for what his little brother had to endure was still more dominant.

When he was finished, Jout looked deep into his brother's brown eyes and said, "I feared you might hate me for letting the family die. After all, you always try to keep the civilians safe. And I…I hate myself for not having prevented their death. But I had no choice! I did not know how to protect you and everyone involved with the operation and them at the same time. So I made the fateful choice to let them be killed by this firing squad."

"Oh, Josh." Hogan grabbed Jout's other hand, which was not held by Newkirk. "I don't hate you…and I never could hate you. Ever. Especially not for something that was out of your control. Fuhrmann is the soul responsible for their tragic death; he just wanted to make you feel guilty."

"I know that now too; Emil said the same." Jout looked down on the blanket which covered him and said, "I'm sorry for lying to you. To all of you. I was just afraid that you guys would turn your backs on me."

" 'at would never 'appen," Newkirk assured him. "No matter what, I will always back ya."

The others agreed with their British friend, and for the first time in weeks, the atmosphere changed to a content one; yes, almost to a happy one. The fear on Jout's part had vanished, as well as the tenseness because of the uncertainty on the other's part.

"How are you feeling now, Josh?" Hogan asked after a few moments of silence.

"Better," he answered. "Knowing that you guys don't hate me for what happened to the family takes a load off my heart."

Hogan squeezed Jout's hand. "Like I said, no one holds you responsible for their death; it was out of your control. But I'm happy you feel better." He looked at his watch and announced, "But I think it's time I adjust the plan for tonight's mission. Now that we have to get _Leutnant_ Becker and his family from the barn to our tunnel."

"Thank you for helping Emil to escape. He is a good person," Jout said.

Hogan smiled at him. "No need to thank me. I will always help the person who helped my little brother survive. Always."


	35. Chapter 35

**A/N: I changed Emma's age from now seven months to three months. It fits better with the story.**

* * *

The next day was packed for Hogan and his team. LeBeau spent most of the day tailoring new clothing for Emil; he had come with his Gestapo uniform and he could definitely not wear that on his escape. Carter and Baker were busy forging identification papers in case they were picked up by a patrol. However, in that case, they doubted the papers would do much good. Since Emil was part of the Gestapo, it would be over as soon as his colleagues picked him up. Therefore, Hogan simply ordered him to not be caught; for the sake of him and the operation.

Newkirk had decided to stay away from the on goings in tunnel. He still felt a wave of anger flooding his body every time he laid his eyes on Emil. It was not on purpose; he always reminded himself that the young German man was the reason why his boyfriend was still alive. But no matter how hard he tried to convince himself of the righteousness of Emil, anger was the first and last thing he felt whenever he was in the presence of the other man. Besides, there were much more important things that needed his presence; today was the day Wilson would announce whether Jout could try to take his first steps after about six weeks of constant bedrest.

With him in the small room was Hogan, who of course did not miss such an important moment of his brother's recovery. As always, he leant against his desk and observed how Wilson examined Jout's knee for the umpteenth time.

"What do you say, Wilson? Can I stand up today?" asked Jout impatiently. After almost two months of just lying around, every day he had to spent chained to the bed in his brother's quarters was utter torture for him.

Wilson looked up from his patient's knee and gave Jout a broad smile. "The wait is finally over, Lieutenant."

"Great!" cheered Jout, instantly throwing the blanket away from him and placing his feet on the ground.

"Colonel Hogan, Newkirk, I want you two to support the Lieutenant. Try to absorb most of his weight; after all this time, the muscles in his legs are weak." Hogan and Newkirk scrambled to the bed while Wilson continued to explain, "Lieutenant, when you are standing, I want you to wait a moment before you try to walk. The last weeks, you were constantly lying or sitting; the change of position could take a toll on your circulation and make you feel dizzy. Also, it's best if you first put all your weight on your right leg, and then you carefully put your left foot on the ground."

"Alright," said Jout.

Hogan and Newkirk slipped each an arm around Jout's back and laid one of his arms around their necks. Then, they carefully pulled him up and stopped as soon as he was in a standing position. Jout had followed Wilson's instructions and bend his left leg so that his whole weight was put on his right leg. When he stood upright, Jout felt how a wave of nausea hit him and he blinked a few times to get rid of the dizziness. All the while, Hogan and Newkirk had a tight grip around him as they also tried to follow the medic's advice, trying to absorb most of Jout's weight.

"How are you feeling, Lieutenant?" Wilson asked.

"A bit dizzy…but I'm fine. I've been worse the past weeks," Jout answered.

Wilson nodded. "Alright. Now I want you to carefully lower your left leg until your foot is on the ground."

Jout looked down as he ever so slowly put his left foot on the ground. He prepared himself for pain shooting through his body once again, but to his amazement, the feared ache stayed away.

"Still feeling good?" Wilson inquired.

"Yes," Jout said while he raised his glance again. "I don't feel any pain."

"Good to hear." Wilson smiled. "Now comes the hardest part. I want you to cautiously and slowly put one foot in front of the other. Try to walk to the desk."

Jout inhaled deeply. The day he waited for so long had finally arrived. Now he would see how damaged his knee really was and if he could ever walk again. He lifted his left leg slightly and took a step, carefully lowering his foot on the ground. Then Jout slowly shifted his weight from his right to his left leg, after that taking a step with his right leg. His movement reminded one more of hopping than walking since he tried to quickly shift his weight from the left to the right leg, because it was a bit paining with every step. Slowly but steady, Jout, supported by Hogan and Newkirk, arrived at the desk.

Upon reaching his destination, Jout looked at Wilson and beamed, "I can walk!"

He felt how Newkirk squeezed him as he said, "Great, Josh! I told ya everythin' would turn out fine."

"I'm proud of you, little brother," Hogan said, his face revealing the joy he felt.

With the help of his brother and boyfriend, Jout returned to his bunk. When he sat again, Wilson said, "I want you to walk every day a bit more. But don't overdo it; it needs time until you are fully recovered."

"Understood," Jout said. "Constant training, but no overdoing."

"That's right." Wilson turned to Hogan, who stood beside Jout's bed, completely happy about the progress his brother was making. "Colonel Hogan, maybe you can try to convince Colonel Klink to organize crutches for the Lieutenant. He still has to be careful how much weight he puts on his left leg, and it would be helpful if he was able to move on his own without needing two of his friends to support him."

"I'm on my way, Wilson," Hogan answered and left the quarters.

The medic packed his bag and then followed the Colonel, leaving Jout and Newkirk behind. The Brit sat down next to his boyfriend on the bunk and Jout leant into him, slipping his right arm around Newkirk's waist while placing his left hand on the other man's thigh. He felt how Newkirk slipped his own arm around his waist and Jout placed his head on his boyfriend's shoulder. "I can't believe this is really happening," he eventually said after some minutes spent in silence.

"What?" Newkirk questioned.

"Everything. That I'm better again, slowly getting back to my old self. That Rob actually asked Marie to marry him." Jout squeezed Newkirk's thigh. "That **we** are getting married after the war."

Newkirk pulled his boyfriend even closer to him and gave him a kiss on his hair. "Well, it can't always go downhill. We must 'ave some sunshine in our lives once in a while."

* * *

In the evening, it was time for Emil and his family to leave the tunnel and escape to England. However, Emil did not want to leave before Jout had met the most important person in his life; his infant daughter Emma. So Emil took his daughter from his wife Elisabeth, who stayed behind in the tunnel to minimize the risk of a guard finding them, and cautiously climbed up into the barracks.

There in the common room he was awaited by Hogan, who said, "Josh does not expect you to come with your daughter. It will be a complete surprise for him." Emil nodded and followed Hogan to the door to the adjoined room. The Colonel knocked on the door and opened it a crack, saying, "Josh, Emil is here."

Then he opened the door completely and stepped in. Seconds later, Emil entered too with his daughter in his arms, wrapped in a pink blanket. Emil saw the surprised look on Jout's face and said while gently rocking his daughter, "Hey, Joshua. I didn't want to leave before you get to meet the person I'm doing this all for."

Newkirk, who of course knew about Emil's surprise, rose from his seat and stepped aside so that the German could sit down. Earlier that day, he had talked with Jout about his ill feelings concerning Emil and Jout was able to finally convince him that there was no reason to feel any anger; that Emil was the sole reason for his survival, the sole reason that Newkirk and he still had a future together. Somehow, hearing these words coming from the person he loved more than anything else in the world made Newkirk change his opinion of the German.

He walked over to Hogan and leant against the desk like his commanding officer. Together they watched how Emil went to the bunk and sat down next to it. He adjusted the bundle in his arms so that Jout was able to see the face of his daughter and said, "Joshua, I would like you to meet my daughter, Emma Theresa Becker."

A smile circled around Jout's lips as he gazed at the little girl. "She looks even more beautiful than on the picture you showed to me."

"Yeah, she is the most beautiful little girl on this world," Emil beamed, looking down at his daughter whose bright blue eyes matched those of her father's. Emil raised his glance and asked, "Do you want to hold her?"

"It would be an honour," Jout said.

Emil placed the pink bundle in Jout's arms, adjusting the position so that Emma's head was supported by his arms. Jout stared down at the little girl, who looked up curiously at the strange man. But she felt that Jout could be trusted, because she began to giggle and reached with her tiny hand up at him. Jout held his pinkie in reach for her hand, and Emma instantly grabbed it with her small hand.

Jout had to smile upon the giggles that came from the little girl in his arms and said, "Hello, Emma. I'm Joshua; a friend of your father."

Newkirk watched his boyfriend's joyful face and leaned closer to Hogan. "Now I think 'e will be alright, gov'nor," he whispered.

Hogan raised an eyebrow. "Why now?"

"The glow in 'is eyes is back."

Hogan went back to observing his brother. Then he asked Emil, "How old is your daughter?"

Emil looked at him and answered, "Emma is three months now; she was born on August 27th." He gazed back at his daughter and announced, "Hopefully by her first birthday, the war is over and we can celebrate together."

"Definitely," Jout declared.

After watching how Jout had held Emma for a while, Emil remembered the other reason why he came to visit Jout. He reached into his pocket and retrieved the blue-yellow-bracelet the other man had once given him. "Here, Joshua. I don't think I need it anymore." He directed his gaze at Hogan and said, "But I suppose I ought to have handed it to Colonel Hogan, am I right?"

Hogan first stared at the bracelet in Emil's hand, then at his brother, a shocked expression on his face. "I thought you said you have lost it during a struggle with Fuhrmann's sidekicks."

Jout smiled sheepishly at his brother and said, "That might have been a lie." He went on to explain how he had coaxed Emil into escaping the day Fuhrmann intended to kill him, and how he had given him instructions to contact Papa Bear, using the bracelet as a proof for his righteousness. "Emil was the only one who tried to help me in there. I wanted to do the same for him."

Hogan nodded. "I understand." He looked down at the watch and was surprised at the time that had flown by. He raised his glance and saw Jout rocking Emma gently with a broad smile on his face. "I'm sorry to interrupt this joyful moment, but it's time for Emil and his family to leave."

Jout looked up from Emma, disappointment evident in his face. He quickly overcame it and said, "Of course. Don't want to risk the Krauts finding them. Here." He handed Emma back to her father, who in return gave Jout his bracelet back.

While Jout put it back on his right wrist, Emil announced, "I wasn't joking, Joshua. I really hope we could meet up again after the war." He lowered his gaze and whispered, "I think of you as my friend. And I would like to see my friend again."

Touched by the other man's honest words, Jout replied, "And I wasn't joking either. We will definitely meet again. I think of you as my friend too; and I want to see your daughter again."

"You know, we have not yet baptized her. I think Elisabeth and I will wait until you are back in England, because I want you to be her godfather."

Jout's jaw dropped to the floor upon Emil's words; Newkirk and Hogan were equally shocked. "I…I don't know… I don't know what to say, Emil," Jout stammered. "All I can say is I would be honoured to be Emma's godfather."

Emil gave Jout a smile and rose to his feet. "See you after the war, Joshua."

"See you after the war, Emil."

* * *

Later that day, when it was time to go to bed, Hogan entered his quarters and found Jout reading one of LeBeau's French novels. Next to him against the wall leant a pair of crutches, right within reach for him in case he wanted to stand up. It had taken Hogan hardly any sweet-talk to get Klink to organize the crutches; a fact that surprised Hogan. Even though Klink was not a very strict camp commandant, let alone a cruel one concerning his dealing with the prisoners, he was not one who easily did things that made the life of the prisoners easier or more pleasant. Maybe he felt still guilty for having not done anything to free Jout from the clutches of the Gestapo? Whatever it was, Hogan was grateful for it. Silently, he went over to his locker to get his pyjama. While he unbuttoned his shirt, Hogan could not help but to look at his brother every few seconds; there was so much he had wanted to say ever since Jout woke up, but there had never been the right time. And now that it seemed like his brother was completely fine again, the urge to talk to him grew stronger and stronger, almost taking his breath away. As Hogan put on his pyjama shirt and buttoned it up, he decided he could not wait any longer.

He turned to face his brother and asked, "Josh, can I talk to you for a minute?"

Jout raised his glance. "Sure. What's on your heart, big brother?"

Hogan grabbed the stool by his desk and placed it next to the bunkbed. "A lot, actually."

"Well, then it's best when you start at the beginning," Jout said, a hint of concern in his voice. He did not like the body language of his brother at all; unsure, defeated, sad. That were not attributes one normally used to describe Robert Hogan.

Hogan drove with his hand across his neck and sighed. He gazed into Jout's eyes and rambled, "Ever since you have woken up from the coma, I wanted to apologize to you. But then you almost died again from the infection, and after that you struggled with what you have endured. Therefore, I found it was never the right time to apologize. Besides, what should I have said? "Oh, Josh, I'm sorry for not having prevented you being tortured by some crazy Gestapo major". "Sorry for just sitting around while you were given electric shocks". "Sorry for sitting on my hands while you almost died"." He put his head in his hands. "Even though there are no words for how sorry I am, I have to apologize to you. You sacrificed so much for this operation, for all the people connected to it. And just because some madman was after me; because you tried to protect me!"

"Oh, Rob!" Jout exclaimed. "You don't have to apologize for what happened; you are not responsible –"

"Yes, I am!" Hogan interrupted. "I'm the commanding officer of this operation. I am responsible for the well-being of my men." He lowered his gaze and said, "I am your big brother; it's my duty to protect you. And once again, I failed miserably. You must be incredible disappointed by me."

Jout leant forward and placed his hand on Hogan's shoulder, making him raise his glance and look him into the eyes. "Rob, I'm not disappointed by you. You could have done nothing to prevent this. Besides, you have not done nothing; you were the one who in the end convinced Burkhalter to order my release. And you were the one who argued with London when they didn't want to send penicillin. Without you, I would probably be dead by now." He leant back against the barracks' wall and continued, "And please, stop beating yourself up over what happened years ago. It's been long since over and shouldn't control our lives and thinking. You did a mistake, alright, but you have done so much good ever since; focus on your good deeds, and not the bad."

"You might be right, but it doesn't change the fact that I feel guilty for what Fuhrmann did to you," Hogan said. "It's not something I can get rid of so easily."

A sad smile circled around Jout's lips. "Believe me Rob, I know what you mean. I can't shake the feeling of guilt over the family's death off so easily too. But remember what you have told me: Fuhrmann is the sole person responsible for everything that has happened the past six weeks. Not you, not me, not anyone else."

Hogan stared at his brother for a moment before he matched his smile. "You're using my own words against me. I'm proud of you."

"And I'm proud of you, Rob. So very much."


	36. Chapter 36

**A/N: And now the Epilogue:**

* * *

 _One month later…_

The mood among the prisoners was a mixture between excitement and sadness; just like it was the past years. Today was New Year's Eve, and it always took a toll on the emotional well-being of the men held captive. Especially on those who were prisoners for a really long time or for a really short time. Those in between handled it mostly the best. One of those prisoners was Jout. It was his second New Year's Eve as a prisoner, and he was one of the excited ones. He had not such a big problem with the day; unlike his boyfriend. For Newkirk it was the fifth celebration behind a barbed wire fence and far away from his mother and sister. The whole day he was in a sour mood, snapping at everyone who was a bit cheerful in his vicinity.

It was around 2100 hours that Jout slowly made his way from the Rec Hall to his barracks. The Rec Hall was packed with almost every prisoner of Stalag 13, everyone celebrating the last few hours of 1944; all hoping that it was the last year that ended while the war was going on. One of the few prisoners missing was Newkirk; and that was something Jout wanted to change. He had to be careful while walking to his barracks, his knee still not fully healed. But the last month was a month of progress for Jout; a month of returning to his old self. He had abandoned the crutches a couple of days ago, now being able to put his whole weight on his left leg. But what pleased Jout the most was that despite the high possibility, he had regained full functionality of his left hand. The only thing reminding him of his stay with the Gestapo was a white scar across the back of his hand and palm; well, it was not the **only** thing. There were the scars on his stomach and knee too. And of course there were the nightmares that sometimes ripped him out of his sleep. But over the course of the last month, they became less and less, now only tormenting him occasionally. That was just something he had to get used to; the price of war. However, for Jout, his stay with the Gestapo was not just bad. It had given him a new friend. Emil and his family had arrived safely in England two days after they had left the tunnel, and now they lived peacefully in a small flat in London. Like he had promised Hogan, Emil told the Allied High Command everything he knew about the Gestapo; names of members, methods of retrieving information, committed atrocities. And like Hogan had promised him, Emil was not arrested. And not only that, but the General who had questioned him, a General Gallagher, helped him to find a flat and a new job. General Gallagher told Jout that Emil was completely surprised, not knowing about the friendship that connected the American general with his friend in Stalag 13. Jout really had to laugh when he learned about that, thinking to himself that he definitely had to clear that up when he met Emil again.

When he arrived at the barracks, Jout opened the door and immediately caught sight of the moody Brit, finding him sitting at the common table and playing solitaire. Newkirk did not seem to notice him and therefore, Jout quietly walked over to him and put his hands over the other man's eyes. "Who am I?" he asked, his voice betraying his joyful mood.

Newkirk pushed his hands away and growled, "Leave off, Josh! I'm not in the mood for 'at."

Jout sat down on the stool next to him, not being deterred by Newkirk's harsh and annoyed tone. "Ah, come on! You can't spend New Year's Eve all alone and moody."

"As ya can see, I can," Newkirk stated. He continued playing solitaire and asked, " 'ow can ya be so damned 'appy today?"

"Why shouldn't I be happy? I've always liked New Year's Eve, and I surely won't let the Krauts take that away from me," Jout said. "And you should be happy too!

Newkirk grunted. "Why should I be 'appy?"

"Well, it surely will be the last time you spent New Year's Eve apart from your mother and sister," Jout pointed out.

" 'at's what we 'ave said the past years too." Newkirk took a drag on his cigarette. "Still, it's the fifth time while I'm in this stinkin' camp."

"I know, but the last years the Allies were not miles away from the German borders," Jout said. "Besides, I want to celebrate New Year's Eve with my fiancé. And wouldn't my fiancé be an idiot to deny me this wish if we came real close to never celebrating it together ever again?"

For the first time since the start of their conversation, Newkirk turned his head to look at his boyfriend, seeing a broad grin on his face. "Are ya really playin' this card?" Jout's grin grew broader as he nodded. Newkirk sighed and stubbed out his cigarette. "I can't believe ya tryin' to blackmail me with yer torture."

Jout rose to his feet and pulled an annoyed Newkirk with him. "Ah, come on, Peter! I wouldn't call it blackmailing, just reminding you that there was a big chance I might not have been here today." Jout circled his arms around Newkirk's waist and pulled him closer. "You know, I thought today was a good occasion to tell our friends that we're engaged."

Newkirk put his own arms around Jout, never able to be angry at his boyfriend for a long time. He began to gently rub Jout's back while he asked, "You want to tell them?"

Jout nodded. "Sure I want. After all, we've been engaged for about two months now, and I'm certain this engagement won't break. So why wait any longer?"

" 'ey, I'm not against the idea. Just wasn't sure if ya wanted to tell them since ya never said a word."

Jout bit his bottom lip. "To be honest, it kind of slipped my mind telling them." Upon seeing the questioning look on Newkirk's face, Jout quickly explained, "You see, after asking you to marry me, I almost died from the infection. And then I was too busy trying to repress my memories about the torture to think about telling our friends about our engagement. And later I never thought about because we knew and were happy. But now I want to tell them."

Newkirk listened silently to Jout's explanation, a smile finding its way on his face. "Alright, luv, ya convinced me to follow ya into the Rec 'all."

Jout's eyes light up and he leaned forward to give Newkirk a quick peck on his lips. Before the Brit knew what was happening, he already found himself on the way to the celebration. When he stepped into the building, Newkirk saw that the party was already in full swing; music was playing, men were dancing or talking with each other, and many had drinks in their hands. Jout led him to a table on the far-end wall were his friends were standing and chatting.

As soon as LeBeau spotted them, he exclaimed, "Oh, see who got the life of the party to the party!"

Everyone had laugh at the Frenchman's exclamation; even Newkirk could not suppress a small laugh. He threw his hands up in defence and said, "I know, I know, I wasn't the most cheerful person today, but Josh convinced me to get out of me 'idin' place."

"Good thing to hear, Newkirk," Hogan said as he handed the Brit a cup of alcohol-containing punch. On a day like this, Klink had allowed the prisoners to consume alcohol as long as the celebration would not go out of hand. Hogan had promised him this, but he was not so sure of this promise could be kept. But Hogan did not care; if the party did indeed go out of hand, they could worry later about that. Now it was all about having a good time.

Newkirk accepted the cup gratefully and poured the drink down, a grimace covering his face immediately as the burning liquid washed down his throat. "Blimey, is this stron'! Who made this?"

A chuckle escaped Carter's lips as he raised his hand. "That would be me."

"Carter, sometimes ya scarin' me," Newkirk said.

Everyone had to laugh again, already having had a few drinks themselves. While LeBeau and Baker inquired once again what Carter had put in the drink, who refused to speak since it was a family secret, Jout shot Newkirk a questioning glance that was answered by a slight nod.

Jout cleared his throat and said, "Ahem, guys, there is something Peter and I liked to tell you." When everyone looked at him, Jout looked at Newkirk, a smile on his lips. Peter got the hint and announced in a low voice, making sure that no one else was able to hear what he was saying, "We're engaged!"

Just like when Hogan had told his men that Marie and he would be getting married after the war, Jout and Newkirk were greeted with four shocked faces.

Hogan was the first one to overcome the initial shock, a broad smile circling around his lips. "Congratulations to you two!" he exclaimed, pulling his brother into a hug. Then he went on to give a hug to a startled Newkirk, who had never thought his commanding officer would react like this when telling him he intended to marry his little brother.

Immediately after, Jout and Newkirk were congratulated by their three other friends. When everyone had wished the couple luck and happiness, Jout explained, "We know that we can't get married officially, but we still want to have a ceremony. And we have hoped you guys will be there."

"Of course we will," LeBeau declared.

"That will be a lot of weddings to attend," Baker announced, "Carter and Mary-Jane, Colonel Hogan and Tiger and now you two."

"Well, at least we have something to look forward to," Hogan stated.

The others agreed and toasted on it, a joyful atmosphere spreading among the men. They went back to chatting and laughing, all enjoying the end of an eventful year. When Jout looked at Hogan, he was greeted by a wink and a big smile. Yes, time might not heal all wounds, but time and good friends could help to make wounds and scars tolerable. And luckily for Jout, he had a whole bunch of good friends who he could always count on. And was that not the greatest gift of all?

* * *

 **A/N: Here we are: another major story finished in the Jout universe. I want to thank all my faithful readers as well as those who favourited this story/me as an author for the support. Without you, this fandom would not be the same and I wouldn't be half as motivated to regularly upload chapters. And since this chapter plays on New Year's Eve, I found it only fitting to end this story on New Year's Eve. I wish you all a successful 2019, and may whatever you hope for come true.**

 **Seeing that this story came to an end now, I want to use this opportunity to inform you that I will take a break from posting new stories. But don't worry! There are more stories planned in this universe; I just want to concentrate on some other projects. However, I will not leave you completely while I'm working on those other projects. I will try to sometimes upload one-shots or shorter stories to bridge the time until the next big story starts. So once again, I would like to thank everyone who joined in on this journey and hopefully we will start a new one together soon.**

 **Until then, yours in service,**

 **Icyglass431**


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